Broken Wing
by Dweezil514
Summary: Sansa is broken beyond repair.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers! This story contains some pretty difficult themes, like rape and what can result from it. That's not what the majority of the story is about, but definitely will have a huge impact. If that is hard for you to read, I wouldn't recommend my story.**

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Sansa curled even tighter around herself as she heard the battle rage around her. She knew the queen expected her, but she was too exhausted to care.

_Don't fight me, _he'd said with an evil glint in his eyes. Sansa curled in on herself again, willing the aches to go away, along with the images in her head. It had happened two nights ago, and every time she drifted off she saw him stabbing her with his great sword over and over again.

She wished he had.

_Rape her for all I care, _her beloved Joffrey had spat after he was tired of watching her beatings. He's said this many times to many people, but she didn't expect it to actually happen. He hadn't called for her since, and if he had any brain he wouldn't—the Hound would not stop her from pushing him this time.

She cringed at the thought of her once-protector, and started to cry silently to herself.

_You'll scream for me, pretty one,_ he rasped as he violated her. And as much as she had tried to remain strong, she did. Oh did she scream. But she had not made a sound since her screams had filled the castle from the lower cells. She hadn't spoken, she hadn't moved. She just lay there, praying for Stannis Baratheon's horde to come kill her—kill them all.

She froze as her door slowly creaked open, picturing again the huge form and black eyes of her attacker. She dared not breathe as she heard the intruder shuffle slowly in, walking around the room and examining all her things. He was breathing heavily and sighing every few seconds. Sansa willed whomever it was to simply leave, but he sat down on the edge of her bed.

"The world's on fire, little bird" he growled out

Sansa gasped.


	2. Chapter 2

He finally escaped the unnatural green fire to make his way back into the castle. How fitting, to spend three days in the village preparing for battle then running away from the damn thing. Well fuck the Imp, fuck Joffrey, and fuck their fire. He knew he shouldn't be _there_, but the little bird's song always seemed to pull him in. He walked around the room, breathing in her scent and touching things that had no right to be near his horrific skin.

He sat down on the bed, wishing Sansa were in her cage this evening. Maybe to cry in her arms, maybe to fuck her bloody into the mattress. His jaw clenched as he remembered he was as likely to get one as the other.

"The world's on fire, little bird" he said to the darkness, then whirled around, sword in hand when he heard a gasp from behind him.

"Seven hells, girl!" He shouted at her, breathing hard. How on earth did she get so small and unnoticeable? Instead of her usual blush and nervous retort, she said nothing; she just sat up in her bed and stared. The Hound put away his sword and looked down, lest she see too much of him. He took a drink of wine from her table, noticing the full plate of food, and said over his shoulder, "Didn't the lioness want you with her tonight?"

Again she didn't answer, and he could feel her stare on his back. He walked over and sat on the bed to look back now. He noticed the black eye and long scratch on the right side of her face, but clenched his fists when he saw the bruising on her neck. He wanted to run out and kill the bastard that had hurt her. But as always, he was too much of a cowardly dog to move.

He reached out and pulled her chin up to look at her. When she shuddered and turned away, his anger turned towards her. "Still can't stand to look can you?" he said with a bitter laugh, taking another swig of wine. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised that she was still repulsed by him, but it stung nonetheless.

"You were gone," she whispered.

"You noticed?" he said disbelieving. She didn't respond. "King's business in the village for the battle." He'd rather not think or talk about the families he'd shoved out of their homes, or the red-haired whore he'd fucked while picturing her. Another swig.

"Why are you here my lord?" she asked in another tiny whisper. He stood up and yelled "Lords don't run from the fucking battle, girl!" He was shaking in anger at her, and lost it when she looked up at him again.

_No, _he thought. _You can't bear looking at my face, don't even try something you don't want to do._ He slowly removed his dagger and placed it at her throat. She looked terrified now, eyes squeezed shut and gasping for breath. _That's better, that's how she should look when she's near me. _

"I'll have that song you promised me, little bird," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Florian and Jonquil, I think." He left the dagger there and waited. The song that came out was not the lover's tune, but a sad Mother's song.

He couldn't help the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. She was comforting him. How could she comfort him? He sat back on the bed, shoulders slumped over as he listened to her song. She really was perfect, wasn't she? When she was done she inched closer to him and put a hand on the burnt side of his face.

"I could keep you safe, you know" he said to her, "away from here." She pulled her hand away and just stared again.

"You were gone," she whispered again, pulling away even farther.

_You absolute fool,_ he thought as he stood up and rushed to the door. _Monsters __kidnap__ princesses, she never wants to run away with it_. He suddenly couldn't stand his painful sanctuary.

"Sandor?" he heard her say as he opened the door. He stopped against his better judgment.

"Alright."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all! I realize I should have had an author's note before now, but I got caught up with writing Sorry those first few chapters were a little short, to be honest I wrote them by hand and it gets tiring after a while! I hope they whet your appetite though, cause we're going to be writing more now. **

**Finally, this chapter is dedicated to Birdy Main, who gave me my first ever review as a fanfiction writer**

_I could keep you safe. _She thought of his words as they traveled. He had the truth of it—the second he was gone they'd violated her in the very way he'd always prevented. Sandor Clegane could keep her safe, and away from the castle, as she'd been dreaming since her lord father died. Now she still prayed for the release of death, but maybe he could keep her together as he'd done…before.

They had ridden through the night, sure that the battle would keep the soldiers occupied for at least that long. Sansa hoped that Joffrey wouldn't live to send soldiers after them, but didn't think much beyond that

"I put my second set of armor on some dead man and burned it in the field, "he said gruffly, snapping her out of her thoughts. "They'll think I'm dead in combat. It's you we've got to worry about."

She shook her head. "No one has seen me in two days." She said in a dead voice. It was true, after her maids had tried to rouse her the first morning she'd been miraculously left alone. She assumed Shae had made excuses and kept them away. "We should have a decent head start."

They kept riding in silence, although she could feel the confused glances he sent her way. She didn't care enough to make him stop, or answer his questions, or snap at him, or engage him in conversation.

She just didn't care.

He kept riding, but couldn't figure out what she'd meant. Why wouldn't anyone have seen her for days? While she didn't look ill there was something…off. To be honest, the girl looked dead. The only clues to the contrary were her breathing and pained groans everytime they went over a bump. The terrain wasn't hard at all, she couldn't be _that_ bad a rider.

"Would you like a rest princess?" He asked in an irritated tone. She slowed her horse to a stop, still not speaking. Once again he felt bad, but couldn't make an apology come. He got off Stranger and came towards her. She cringed painfully when he lifted her up and set her on the ground. He found himself wishing for her false curtesies and pretty words, so he didn't have to see her open revulsion at him. He turned and walked back to tend to his horse. When he looked back, she was crouched over, gripping her horse tightly enough to push it over.

He came back over, unsure of how to comfort her when she was so obviously in pain. "Boros get particularly savage this time?" Sansa stiffened at his comment, and the Hound wanted to slap himself for being so heartless. Why couldn't he ever say anything soothing to her?

"I'll find something to eat," she said as she walked slowly away.

Where was the comment about how hateful he was, the blush in her cheeks? She was still his scared little bird too afraid to stand up for herself, but something was missing. Something was gone that he couldn't quite place. He tried not to think about it as he checked the horses hooves and brushed mud and bugs off their coats.

She finally came back with berries in both hands. She reached out one hand and dropped them into his much larger one. She didn't say anything again as she turned to sit on a fallen tree and eating. She looked at the ground, but she was a mile away. He would have given anything to know what she was thinking, but he didn't have the courage to ask and get shot down again. So he leaned against a nearby tree popping the berries into his mouth.

"Were you serious?" Sansa suddenly asked, in a clearer voice than he'd heard in days.

"Say more, girl" he growled out at her.

"When you said that killing was the sweetest thing there is" He imperceptibly cringed at the memory, and his inability to say anything sweet the way she did.

"You feel…powerful, in control," he said. "And your other option is to die."

"Then why did you stop me?" she asked.

"What?"

"From pushing him. Why. Did. You. Stop. Me?" That was the question, wasn't it?

"You wanna be on a spike next to your father, little bird?" he asked gruffly. "You wanna go over the edge with the little king?" _You wanna lose all that's good about a person, like me?_

"Maybe" she said without a trace of hesitation. He scoffed, but turned to pack the horses.

What the hell happened while he was gone?

It continued that way for the next few days—riding in silence, Sansa's pain, the Hound's curiosity, and the occasional necessary conversation about eating and sleeping arrangements.

He couldn't exactly pretend he didn't hear her thrashing at night, or the cries of "No, please." The first night he shook her awake, and she'd screamed and recoiled from him, shaking and muttering. _Ah, so she's dreaming about me _he thought with an ache in his chest. So he just let her scream, it was clearly better than waking up to the man who tormented her dreams.

He laid out the bedrolls far away from each other as Sansa brushed out the horses that night. Once again they were sleeping on the ground outside, as the Hound didn't trust the inns or the people in them. He looked up in surprise at Stranger, who did not protest when she moved to brush him. Usually anyone who came near his massive horse would lose a finger, but he nuzzled her hand. Sandor walked away shaking his head—his horse wasn't the only one with a soft spot for Sansa Stark.

She finished and went to lie on her roll. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it into a loose braid and staring off into the trees. The Hound fought the urge to go and touch her hair too, and instead laid down facing away from Sansa. He quickly fell into a restless sleep

**He stared around the hall after he pulled Joffrey away from the mob, eyes darting to every corner. **

"**Leave her to them for all I care!" he heard the king shout. He did not wait for the Imp's response before he rushed out into the crowd again, searching for her. Damnit, how did she get out of his sight? She was right behind them, he checked. He had his sword at the ready as he passed by the carnage, hoping he didn't find the little bird at the center of one of those blood baths. Fuck, where was she?**

**He saw two men dash down an alleyway, and on instinct followed them. He saw 4 men struggling with something on the ground while 1 reached for his cock. Then he heard Sansa's strangled cry of "No, please…" **

The Hound woke with a start. Sansa was crying out in her sleep again, the same cries he heard when he saved her. She was dreaming of her attack, and if her reaction the other night was anything to go by, she was dreaming of him raping her. He turned away, that now familiar pain in his chest back. He had no right to be upset—he'd thought many times about taking her, dog that he was. He'd fucked whores and his own hand furiously, but he'd never touched her. Because the truth was he wanted her willing—he wanted her wet and panting for him, saying his name as he entered her and moaning as he thrust…

He shook his head clear of those thoughts. _She dreaming about you __raping__ her, stop it. _And why wouldn't she? He scared people, she said so herself. He had seen the revulsion in her own eyes, and turned away when she tried to hide it with false courtesy. Why wouldn't she put his face in her nightmares?

Sandor didn't sleep the rest of the night.

**Question: Do I need to post who's point of view it is, or is that clear?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, you guys are awesome, your comments are great and I'm so excited you like the story! Can't really think of much else to say, other than enjoy the chapter :)**

**This one's dedicated to EvangelineG, who's comment made me talk in a really high-pitched excited voice like a little girl  
**

As they got ready the next morning, the Hound tried to think of something to say. It might have been better for her, but he didn't want to be the subject of her nightmares. She should fear him, but he didn't want her to. But of course he couldn't think of any of her pretty words. All he could think of was chancing the comfort of an inn that night

Sansa was grateful for it. The past week had taken a lot of her dwindling energy, and she could use a hot meal. She felt badly about recoiling from him when he'd woken from her dream, but she'd only seen his eyes at first, and she thought it was _him_. Their eyes were so similar…

_Stop thinking about it_. She thought instead of the future. She dreaded the conversation they needed to have about where they were going, or worse yet, him tiring of her and leaving her somewhere. _Please no, I'm only safe with you _she thought chancing a glance at him again. His permanent scowl was there again, and he refused to look back. She had no courage to bring up what she knew needed to be discussed, so she simply nodded at his suggestion of stopping and followed him in.

She was too tired to play along with the lie they would need to tell, so she stayed silent by his side as he spoke to the man behind the bar. She chanced glances around the room. Thankfully, there were only two other people there. Both alone, and both seemed more interested in their drinks than in them. She heard the tail end of the conversation they were having.

"Ser, is it really proper to share a room with the young lady?" the innkeeper said as he glanced at Sansa. She had enough sense to keep her eyes down and stay out of it. Always the proper lady, wasn't she? For all the good it did her…

"I'm no ser, I'm her escort. I will guard her tonight" he replied with his hand on the pommel of his sword, clearly leaving no room for discussion. He finally relented, without giving her another glance.

She followed them upstairs to the room, entering first when they bade her. "The food will be up shortly" the innkeeper stumbled, clearly afraid of the Hound.

"And some water for a bath too"

"Of course. I trust everything will be to your liking." Sandor shut the door on the man, then made to remove his outer armor and cloak. Sansa crossed the room and did the same on the other side of the room. The hound then took out one of the bedrolls he'd brought in and laid it in front of the fire.

"Give me one of those pillows," he said gruffly at her. She obliged, wondering if he'd ever stop being angry at her. She was pulled from her thoughts by a knock on the door. The hound put a hand on his sword and went to answer it. It was the barmaid with the food. She set it on the table and left with a curtsey.

When they sat down to eat, Sansa knew he wanted to say something. She thought she knew what it was—that he didn't want to be her keeper anymore. That he was leaving. So she stopped him with words of her own.

"You…would you wake me? If I have nightmares tonight? If I disturb you, that is…" she didn't look at him as she said it, afraid of his response. He scoffed a little.

"You didn't seem to enjoy that much last time"

"It's better than the alternative" He seemed to consider her suggestion, at least, before saying,

"Aye, I'll wake you."

They sat in silence. Surely there was more he could do, something he could say other than just waking her up to the same nightmare she had while asleep. He cleared his throat awkwardly and began,

"I know what you dream of." She froze and didn't answer. "I would never…I won't touch you without your permission," he said hanging his head.

She scoffed at that, still not moving. "It wasn't you I had to worry about." Sandor froze now, his brain refusing to process her words. He suddenly lurched across the table, gripping her shoulders in his large hands a little too tightly. When she cringed and looked down he let go, cursing himself but needing the truth.

"What happened while I was gone Sansa?" he asked in a pained voice, dreading the answer. If she was dreaming of it and screaming that way…no, no it was impossible. Nobody would touch the king's betrothed.

"Rape her for all I care" she said in a perfect imitation of Joffrey. Her shoulders tensed as she began to cry silently. The Hound was shaking with anger, his dirty nails buried into his palms so tightly he was starting to bleed. In the deadliest whisper he had, he asked, "Who?"

Sansa didn't answer. She just sat silently crying in her chair. He approached her and yelled, "Who did this Sansa?" but managed to not shake her like he wanted to. When she still didn't answer he yelled in frustration and stormed out of the room. He walked right out of the inn and through the village, stopped at the edge of the woods.

He wanted to go back to King's Landing and help Stannis kill all his enemies. He would enjoy hurting Joffrey and every member of the kingsguard. He wanted to torture them slowly, inflicting everything back on them that they'd ever done to Sansa. He roared again and started swinging his sword at the tree in front of him. It wasn't enough, so he threw it away and used his fists. Eventually that wasn't enough either. Nothing would ever be enough to make up for what had happened to the little bird.

He slumped down against his broken tree. He closed his eyes and imagined who could have done it. Who could have violated her? Was it Joffrey himself? The Imp? Boros? Did she scream? Did she pray for someone to come help her? Did she pray for death? Now he knew why she didn't blush at his crude comments. Her innocence was what was gone.

He failed her.

**AN: And we are just getting started!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello all! I am absolutely overwhelmed by your responses to my story! Pressure's on I guess :) Oh well, I do well with pressure. Just a little teaser: we do find out who attacked Sansa in this chapter, make your final guesses now. **

**And its dedicated to BannaRamma132: She knows why :)  
**

Another week passed without any real conversation between the two of them. Sansa could feel his frustration coming at her, but she still wasn't going to tell him. She had no idea how to even begin. So she contented herself with giving simple answers to his questions, then the uncomfortable silence.

What pained her most was the lack of…Sandor. He didn't make any of his usual crude comments, or get mad at her, or really do anything to her. He was the one she could count on for brutal honesty, and he was treating her like a doll that would break. _They've already broken your little bird _she thought bitterly. And he certainly knew it.

Her physical wounds were healing too. Sandor had put a bundled cloak on her saddle so riding wasn't nearly as painful. The scratches and bruises on her face and neck were healing as well. Sansa wasn't as grateful for that—she was ruined; there should be some way for everyone to see it. Soon all she would have left were her memories.

She thought about it as she washed her face. The scratches hardly even stung anymore. She felt sore in her feminine area, but other than that she physically felt stronger. She just sat in the bath that the barmaid had brought. She wondered where Sandor had gone. It was their second inn in two weeks. He was probably enjoying the drinking he'd been missing out on. Sansa crawled out of the freezing tub, wrapping herself in a blanket and drying her hair.

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "A moment, please! I'm not…decent." She heard him groan, but he didn't enter. She quickly dressed and went to the door, allowing him in. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed and breathing deeply. He coughed when he saw her peek out then followed her into their room.

Sansa didn't look at him as she moved to the bed. "Will you…"

"Aye, girl," he interrupted, "I'll wake you." He'd been doing so for the last few nights. She wondered why he kept up with it; she had to be a nuisance to him. But he continued to do so, and she wasn't complaining.

Sansa moved the blankets and crawled into the freezing bed, not caring about the lack of comfort. She simply steeled herself to another restless night.

"**Oh, I'm going to enjoy this" he said above her, running his disgusting hands roughly over her body. He squeezed as he went, and Sansa struggled against his weight. She had no hope of escape. **

"**You're going to scream for me, pretty girl"**

Sansa woke up screaming as Sandor shook her. She looked at his dark eyes and huge frame and swore her dream was real. She reached up both hands to push his face away, fighting as hard as she could. She froze when she felt the rough, scarred skin on his face and instantly relaxed.

"Sandor," she breathed. She didn't let go of his face; instead she leaned her forehead against his and breathed deeply to rid herself of her dream. _You're all right, he's here. Nothing will ever happen if he's here. _

Thankfully he didn't pull away. He didn't move a muscle as she started to cry again. These weren't the silent tears she'd been prone to lately. These sobs wracked her body; her crying filled the room. Sandor pulled her face into his chest, and she was grateful for the comfort of his strong arms.

"Keeping secrets can kill you, little bird," Sandor said into her hair. Sansa quieted her sobs. So she was still his little bird. How could two men be so different? How could the man with every reason to be angry and vengeful be the gentle protector? Sansa looked up as his concerned eyes.

"Your eyes are so similar in the dark," she said reaching up to touch his face. "And you're both so big." Sandor started to pull away, but she refused to let go. She reached up to the scarred part of his face again. "Then I felt you…" she said as her tears started again. "I'm always safe with you."

He looked into her eyes for a very long time, and she didn't want to break his glance. She wanted him to know now, to see everything. Her hand didn't move from his face as he dropped his gaze to the bed. He was clearly struggling with his composure, so Sansa stroked his face with her hand. _Please say something. _

"Gregor," he whispered in a low, venomous voice.

"Yes," she said back after a very long pause.

Instead of flying to a rage like she expected, Sandor shuddered against her hand, and she felt a single tear fall from his eye. He looked at her briefly before pulling her into his chest again. She cried herself to sleep, but not before she felt Sandor lay down with her, praying he wouldn't let her go.

Sansa didn't dream again that night.

**AN: So! Were you right?**


	6. Chapter 6

**I really should stop spoiling you guys, because I know eventually I won't be able to update this fast. But I just can't stop! Don't hold it against me if they get further apart at some point. But you don't have to worry about that for the next couple chapters at least, as they're already written **

"I'll take you to your brother," Sandor said to her one morning as they set out. "Last I heard he was at Riverrun." Sansa didn't answer him, so he groaned and continued, "We'll take a long road to get there…don't want to be followed."

"Fine" was her only reply. Damnit, why was she remembering her fucking courtesies now? It had taken everything in him to simply hold her that night, and not scream and hurt things like he wanted. He understood Gregor's violence better than anyone, so he just held her and tried not to get too excited when she stroked his face and called him her protector.

_Protector, you blithering fool. She'll find some gentle lord for a husband that __doesn't__ remind her of her raper. Your sword is all she'll ever want. _But he would protect her with everything he had. No one would touch her again while he still breathed.

But what to do with her now? Sandor was trying to be as calm as possible; she'd clearly had enough violence in the past few weeks. But shouldn't she be more angry? Shouldn't she be the one flying into a rage at the drop of a hat? Why was she still wearing her pretty words like armor? He would have no fucking idea what to do with her when she did start to cry, but it had to be better than this.

"Why aren't you fucking angry?" Subtlety had never been a strong suit.

"Beg pardon?"

He trotted his horse over to her and got into her face. "Why aren't you screaming and cursing and hitting everything you can reach?" he said reaching out and taking her reins. "Where's the fucking anger?" He was practically shouting now.

She'd stopped her horse now and was glaring daggers at him, but still not saying anything. He stared her down, willing her to talk, but she kicked her horse and trotted away, yanking the reins away from him. She let out a tiny yelp of pain when a branch caught her across the face, and Sandor rushed over to her, reaching her when she touched the wound and was looking strangely at the blood on her fingers.

"You hurt badly?" he asked, wincing at his stupid question. She continued staring at her bloody fingers, clearly puzzling something out in her head. She moved to gather more blood on her fingers, and Sandor fought the urge to shake her for some answers.

"How long have we been riding?" Sansa asked softly.

"Bout 3 weeks," he said humoring her. _Who fucking cares?_

Clearly she did. Her breathing was picking up, her chest was heaving, and she looked terrified. Sandor quickly dismounted and ran to her, lifting her off the horse as she started to claw at herself screaming. Sandor held her arms, worried she'd do more harm, but she just screamed louder.

"Let me go!" she yelled struggling. _This must have been so similar to what Gregor did to her_ he thought with a sinking feeling. But he was her protector, even if that meant protection from herself.

"Sansa, stop! Calm down!"

"Get it out! Get it out!" she was screaming over and over.

"What in seven hells are you talking about?" He yelled back at her, although he wasn't sure she heard him over her screaming.

"I can't…you have to get it out!" she said still struggling. Sandor realized now she was going for his dagger. That could not end well. _Well, it worked last time _he thought has he wrapped his arms around her shaking and fighting body and sank to the ground. He just held her as her anguished cries filled the forest.

"I didn't want it! I didn't!" She was crying, buried into his chest. Sandor's arms didn't move. He didn't trust that she wouldn't claw her own eyes out if he did. "I just…mouthed off again! I'm so stupid, like everyone said!" she said crying some more. She looked up at him, barely able to do so because of his tight hold. "You told me I was stupid. I wanted to yell at you, but my courtesy was my only defense. And it didn't do me any good." She was whispering now, which almost frightening Sandor more. He didn't know what to expect when she was calm, nor what to say or do to calm her.

She looked up at him with horrifying, dead eyes. He tone matched them when she said, "you have to get it out, Sandor. Get me to a man who can make the tea, cut it out yourself, I don't fucking care, just get it out." He had no idea what she was talking about, but she was sobbing again, so he just ran a hand through her hair in what was meant to be a comforting way.

"Sansa," he started only to hear her sob into his chest again. _Watch your words, Dog_. "I'll do whatever you need me to do, little bird" she sighed into his chest. "I…I don't know what to do. I don't know what's going on."

She sat there crying into his chest for a while longer. Finally, she spoke.

"My moon blood. 6 weeks without my moon blood." She was shaking into him again. Sandor didn't spend a lot of time around women, besides the whores that couldn't even bear to look at him most of the time; he didn't know what that meant. Apparently she could tell.

"That's too long, Sandor." He felt like his heart was going to explode. He might not know much, but he knew that a lack of moon blood meant something else was in there.

It was his turn to start breathing heavily, to want to scream and throw things and fight against everyone. At least he was used to it.

She looked up into his eyes and gripped his shoulders, shaking him. "We have to find a town. A big one. We have to find someone with the tea. I'll drink it and…and it'll be gone…Sandor?" He wasn't responding; he was trying to control his rage. "Sandor!" she cried at him.

He slowly reached a hand up to her face, gripping the back of her head a little too hard. She didn't move his hand though. "We'll get it out little bird." He took her head in both hands now and whispered, "I'll kill him, Sansa. Once you're safe…I'll kill him for doing this to you."

She looked at him for a long time before whispering, "good."

**AN: Poor girl can't catch a break! Yes, I realize that's the understatement of the century. **


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm so sorry for the delay! We just moved and internet is extraordinarily hard to come by! I am writing like crazy though, so once it gets figured out we will be back on track. **

**Gah! Totally forgot dedication for the last chapter! So this chapter will have two—JuliaAurelia and Christy3k for sending me the most thoughtful and funny (respectively) PM's. You two have been most helpful **

* * *

_Flashback_

_Sansa took the cup Sandor procured from the woman in town. _

"_She ain't no maester, but she said it'll work," Sandor said, standing awkwardly in front of her and crossing his arms over his huge chest. Sansa shakily sat back on the bed facing him. _

"_Will it hurt?" she asked so quietly he barely heard her. Now he knelt in front of her to catch her gaze. _

"_It'll hurt a bit, Little Bird. And you'll…um…bleed" he coughed nervously. A single tear fell from Sansa's face. _

"_You won't leave me?"_

"_Never."_

_Sansa stared at the cup for a long time_

_End Flashback_

Sandor hadn't spoken to her in a week, except out of necessity. She could feel his fury rolling off him, but he thankfully didn't take it out on her. Or worse, leave entirely. They were walking the horses over some difficult terrain when Sansa felt sick again. She practically wretched all over her mare in her haste. She finally reached a nearby tree and fell to her knees, heaving all over the ground. She was coughing up the remnants of her stomach when she felt a heavy hand on her back, rubbing slow circles. A cloth appeared by the side of her face when she had finished, and she wordlessly dabbed her mouth.

As her breathing returned to normal, Sandor pulled her to her feet with surprising care and brought her to rest against another tree far from the first one. He squatted in front of her as she rested.

"You alright?" he grunted out. She nodded slowly, looking at anything but his eyes.

"Does this forest ever end?" she asked into the wood.

"We're doubling back, making it hard to find us." He said standing up and looking around.

"Where are we going?" she said looking directly at him now.

"I don't know girl." He didn't sound angry. Just…tired. "No where seems right."

"Why can't we go to Robb anymore?"

"You really think your brother will welcome you now?" he said a little more forcefully. "You haven't really given us a lot of choices here girl!"

"I'm sorry," Sansa said quietly looking at the ground.

Sandor grunted again. "Don't lie to me, Little Bird. You're not sorry."

Sansa looked up at him again. How did he see so much? "I'm sorry I've inconvenienced us. I'm sorry you're here when you'd rather not be," she stood now, "but I'm not sorry I threw the tea away."

"Why not?" Sandor asked softly, stepping towards her. "Why do you want my brother's bastard in your belly?"

"Why are you always so hateful? I didn't ask for this!"

"Hateful, am I? I'm just telling the truth of it girl. You better get used to what's happening to you." They were standing no more than a foot away from each other. Sansa had to crane her neck to look up at him, but refused to back down on this.

"My baby's done nothing wrong, Sandor." His eyes softened a little, but stayed on hers. "Hardly anyone protected me in King's Landing. And there's hardly anyone to protect my child." She stepped even closer to him. "But we could. We could protect her. She deserves a chance that we didn't get."

Sandor looked at her for a long time before chuckling and saying, "she?"

Sansa shrugged and stepped away. "I don't know. I see a girl…sometimes. It…it should be a girl."

"And if it's not?" Sansa shrugged again and turned away from him, back towards the horses. Sandor called after her "I don't like your choice, but I'm glad the little bird's finally grown a spine."

Sansa smiled to herself and grabbed the reins of the horse to set off again.

Sandor tried to shake off the tightening in his gut. She had been _so damn close_. He could feel her breath on his face, and her chest practically touched his. He could still feel the tingling in his fingers from the urge to pull her closer to him. _What is wrong with you, Dog? She would scream the second your hand touched her. _If not because of who he was, but because of what happened to her.

The fucking reminder of which she chose to carry around with her for the next 7 months. He could not understand why she wanted his brother's demon seed in her, or what her plan even was, but for the first time in his life he wasn't shouting at her for her stupidity, or questioning the obvious flaws in her lack of plan. He was more concerned with how she was handling things, and was actively censoring himself…most of the time. _You're going fucking soft. _

So much so that he was considering another inn so soon after the last. She'd just been so sick today…

"You want a bed tonight Little Bird?" He tried to ignore the slow smile that crept over her face—that's the sort of thing that was making him go soft. He needed to not be soft, to have his wits about him and be realistic in their situation. He didn't speak to her as they approached the next town.

But he couldn't ignore her when she groaned next to him. He rushed over to her mare, "what is it, what's wrong?"

"It just…it hurts Sandor" she said clutching her stomach. Sandor leapt from his horse and went over to her, pulling her from the horse and into his arms. He raced into the inn, his heart racing. _Please be alright, Sansa. _

"We need some help here!" he shouted to the woman behind the bar.

"Set her here," the woman said running from behind the counter and pulling out a chair. "You're alright, child"

"Please she's…she's pregnant" Sandor choked out, backing away as the woman attended her. She glared over her shoulder at him, clearly seeing that this pair was as opposite as could be. Sandor glared right back. _Let her think what she wants, as long as she helps the little bird. _

"Don't worry little one, I've had 5 myself. You probably just need a lie-down" she said while stroking her hair. Glancing over her shoulder at Sandor again, she said in a much lower register, "are you alright otherwise, Girl?" Sandor fought the urge to yell at the woman. _He _would never do anything to hurt Sansa. But this woman was helping, so he clenched his fists and bit his tongue.

"Oh yes, I'm sorry for him. He just a little protective" Sansa said with a small smile. The barmaid clearly didn't believe her, but she turned to him and said, "I can examine her if you like, but your baby is probably just fine. Weary from travel, is all. No need to be nervous"

Sandor grunted and said, "I'm not…"

"It's alright, darling. It's fine to be nervous" Sansa interrupted, looking at the woman again. "It's our first" she said with another smile.

Sandor fought to keep his jaw closed. Where did that come from? He wasn't about to openly argue with her, but what was she thinking? Was this something she had been thinking about? Of all the lies to come up with, she had to pick out the fantasy rolling around in his head?

_Of course she hasn't been thinking about it, _he reminded himself bitterly. This was simply the easiest story to explain her condition and why they were traveling together. Sandor crushed the ridiculous hope that had started to bubble inside him, and turned his attention back to the women in front of him.

"I'm assuming you'll be wanting a room for the evening?" Sandor nodded, "You've got the coin?" she asked. He took out his bad and tossed her a few silver coins. She nodded brusquely and led Sansa upstairs, calling over her shoulder, "I'll come get you when we're done."

Sandor took the liberty of ordering wine and relaxing his still-shaking body. It was _not_ like him to get this worked up over something, especially a woman. As he chugged his drink he had to remind himself that he needed to keep his distance from her. He needed to prepare himself for any one of the _many _scenarios in which she would eventually leave him. But her damn lies and smiles towards him were not helping.

He kept his resolve as he climbed the stairs after the barmaid returned. He would be gruff and distant and let them both know how it was going to be between them. But when he entered and saw her sleeping form, clad only in her shift and small clothes, his plan fell out of his head. Did she have to be _so fucking beautiful? _He didn't take his eyes off her as he removed his outer clothing and readied for bed. There was plenty of room for the both of them, wasn't there?

He laid down next to her, the itching in his fingertips back again. He yearned to touch her, but still carried a little of his earlier resolve to keep away. When she started moaning in her sleep again, he hesitated for all of half a second before pulling her back tightly into his chest.

_I'll keep my distance tomorrow_

* * *

**A/N: Now, I have this thing about authors that put up filler chapters where absolutely nothing happens, so I promise you THIS WAS NOT NOTHING!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I have to say, I am incredibly overwhelmed by the response I've gotten from the story. I was so nervous to post, and I must say you guys have eased all my fears and have made this a great experience. You are amazing and supportive and creative and I can't tell you how much I value you guys.**

**Now, I realize I may get a few mixed reviews for this chapter and for the direction I'm about to take, but I assure you all there is a reason, and if you are dying to know you are more than welcome to PM and find out. I'll be more than happy to answer. But then, you guys have been nothing but kind and supportive, I have no reason to doubt you now.  
**

**Alright, sap time over This one is dedicated to Dapsy, for finally finding a SanSan fic to enjoy.  
**

* * *

Sansa felt Sandor undress, then get into bed and pull her into his arms. Maybe if she were quiet enough, he might be able to get some sleep before her nightmares woke them both. She hoped he didn't mind her lie from earlier, but he hadn't really given her a chance to discuss it with him. It would be far better to travel under this guise than any other. And if they were going to be bouncing from town to town, they needed a consistent story—she was a terrible liar.

_Besides_ she thought, _would that really be the most terrible thing in the world?_ Sansa froze at that thought, scared of the possibility of staying with Sandor and actually being a family. She was even more scared when she realized she could actually imagine it…

She shook her head to clear it. _Don't be ridiculous. _Sandor could barely contain his anger at her; in what world would be want to even _pretend_ to be the father of his brother's child? A child that was conceived this way? Let alone actually raise it with her. She really should have discussed it earlier with him, but that woman glaring at him just made her so mad. How dare she think anything negative about him?

Sansa smiled as she thought of Sandor carrying her into the inn, at the concern in his voice. She could not pinpoint the exact moment, but she had started caring what he thought of her. She desired his attention and care. It hurt her more than she wanted to think about when he ignored her, or spoke to her too harshly. But at the same time, she clung to his honesty—he might actually prepare her for the world she was getting into.

_For God's sake, Sansa. Stop this!_ This was exactly the kind of wishful thinking that she needed to stamp out. Life was not a fairy tale, no matter how hard she tried to make her desperate situation into one. _You'd think I'd have learned that by now_ she thought bitterly.

Sansa heard his breathing even out behind her, and she knew it was time for her to go back to sleep as well. She _was _exhausted. She felt her eyes drift closed, Sandor's arms still tight around her…

_Rough, hot fingers were running up and down her arms, tracing patterns closer and closer to her collarbone. When they reached there, she realized there was nothing covering her chest as the fingers danced across the tops of her breasts. She couldn't see anything, she could only feel the sensations he was giving her, and the growing yearning in her belly. _

_Finally a hand cupped her left breast softly, as though to tease her. She tried to open her eyes, but she was stuck in the darkness. She was flashing between frustration and passion and other emotions she had no idea what to do with. Her courtly romantic fantasies of knights had never gotten this far…_

_The hands moved lower, continuing their torturous circles. Sansa tried to move: to touch the person doing this to her, to beg for more, but they gently moved her hands back to her sides and continued. Sansa moaned, immediately shocked at her own boldness. She was not frightened at all, and that surprised her more than anything. She couldn't even see the person doing this to her, but she felt safe, rather than scared. _

_Finally, they reached her lower lips. She tensed, but the warm hands relaxed her by rubbing deeply into her upper thighs. She sank back into the feather bed as he ran over the course hair. Suddenly, an entire finger slipped inside her, then immediately pulled out and teased her again. Sansa cried out in agony. She _needed_ more of that. _

Sansa opened her eyes as Sandor shook her awake.

"It's alright little bird, it's not real." Sansa felt her eyes tear at his words. But she _wanted _it to be real. Sandor coughed awkwardly when she started to cry, but she couldn't stop. Why couldn't _that _be the reality of her life?

"Was it…worse? Worse than normal, I mean?"

"No," she choked out in between her tears, "it wasn't bad at all," she said curling around herself. "It was a good dream."

"Then why are you crying, girl?" Why _was _she crying so much?

"Because I wanted it to be real."


	9. Chapter 9

**I freaking love you guys! Once again you do not disappoint and have fueled the writing! I wrote the next three chapters in one night—they're just so fun : ) **

**Completely separate and random note: Watching Phantom of the Opera=PERFECT for writing this story. **

**Dedication goes to…Rae Rihanna, for so completely describing what I want to have happen to Gregor. Your review totally sounds like how I feel about the story and I loved it **

The little bird was definitely changing. In the last month they'd bounced from town to town, telling the same story as they went. Sandor was doing odd jobs along the way to earn extra money, and Sansa was playing her part well, to his chagrin. Her pretending to be his wife made him _want _her to be his wife a little too much.

Every time he came home (_no, not home you moron_) she would smile at him, ask him about his day. And he actually wanted to hear about hers. He fucking loved playing his part as well. He loved doing things to earn her smiles. He loved sleeping next to her at night, however quickly he had to roll away to avoid her feeling things in the mornings.

There were days she woke up looking almost happy, then days where she was moaning in her sleep, and woke up disappointed. But those all beat the days when she woke up shaking and shouting from nightmares. But those were coming more and more infrequent.

But what bothered him most was her shyness that seemed to be _growing_ as their time together dragged on. She would blush when he put her on the horse—oh how that blush made his breeches tight. His fought for his control whenever that blush came out. But then she would struggle with what to say to him. _Fuck, I thought we were past this. _Did he really still make her so nervous? But the anger he felt at those moments needed to be controlled. So he would grunt, say as few words as possible, and busy himself with something else, furious that she still couldn't relax around him.

He thought about this as he returned from helping to build a house for a new couple in town. It did not pay much, but it was enough to stay there for a little while. He gave a curt nod to the barmaid before trudging up the stairs to their room.

He didn't knock before entering, although perhaps he should have. Sansa was standing in front of the mirror clad in a robe and shift. _I really must buy larger pants to hide these things. _She quickly looked up at the noise and clutched her robe around herself, blushing again. _You're not helping my situation here, Little Bird. _

"Situation?" she asked in a shaky voice. _Fuck, I said that out loud. _Quickly changing the subject, Sandor asked, "what were you doing, girl?"

There was that damn blush again. "Nuh…nothing," she stammered. He growled, and she shifted nervously, biting her lip. _Oh, fuck. Don't do that. _He so badly wanted to be the one biting that lip. The fact that he never would fueled his anger, and he finally snapped.

"I'm not going to fucking do anything!" He exclaimed. She looked up at him in surprise. He held her gaze, breathing deeply before she said, "I didn't think you were going to."

"Then why…ugh, damnit. I thought…"

"What? What is it?" she said softly, coming over and laying a hand on his arm. _I thought you might actually want to talk to me. _He shrugged it away.

"First you can't stand to look, now you can't stand to talk." She actually had the audacity to look surprised. She opened her mouth, but he interrupted, "Save your chirping, Little Bird." He couldn't bear to hear her pretty words, said only to mollify him. She looked a little angry now, and he turned away from her. She grabbed his hand and spun him around with surprising strength.

He looked her in her determined eyes. What game was she playing? Seeing how far she could bear to push herself? Well, he enjoyed this a little too much to be the first to let go. _You're so fucking pathetic, Dog. _So he raised his eyebrows when she led his hand to her stomach. He froze when he felt the small bump protruding there. It was tiny, but it was there. Sandor didn't know whether to caress her stomach or crush the tiny thing under his huge hand. So he remained frozen.

"I can see her," Sansa whispered. "She's…she's real."

"Like it or not." Sandor mumbled back. They stood there for another few moments before their hands dropped and Sansa moved away towards the bed, taking her robe off as she did. Sandor felt his stomach in his throat. But he set about removing his outer clothes and following her. They faced each other on opposite sides of the bed for an eternity before Sansa finally climbed in. Sandor quickly followed suit, and turned her gently so as to pull her back into his chest. _Enough testing your limits for one day. _

* * *

Early the next morning, before the sun rose, Sansa was awakened by yet another sensual dream. She had been so _damn close. _But Sandor once again mistook her moans for pain and woke her. She was surprising angry.

"Damnit" she screamed into his chest when he was sure she was awake and had stopped shaking her. He looked down at her in surprise as she started to cry again. "Ugh!" she exclaimed as she leaped out of bed and paced the room.

She was so…so…confused. Yes, confused. The ache between her legs was too much to bear, but why did she desire that in the first place? Surely no respectable woman had such dreams? Perhaps it was because…no. No, her dreams were good, they were not tainted by what that monster had done. She didn't even realize that she was pulling on her hair until she felt Sandor's hands on her wrists, pulling her arms down to her sides. He held them there for a second too long. His proximity was making it hard for her to think. She took a step back and he let go, a grumpy look on his face.

"Good dream again?"

"I…I don't know." She admitted to the floor. She liked it, but should she?

He sighed deeply before sitting in one of the chairs at the table. "What was it?"

She shook her head. She could not tell him. She could not have him in the world thinking ill of her.

"Sansa…" she looked up in surprise. She could not remember him ever using her name before.

"I…I can't see" she began. He raised a sleepy eyebrow and she continued, "in the dream, I mean. I can't see. I can only feel…someone…touching me." She could see his jaw and fists tighten from across the room. "Well then don't ask," she snapped. His surprised look was back, and he motioned for her to continue. She didn't even know how to explain the next part.

"Where…um…where are they touching you?" Sandor awkwardly asked rubbing the back of his neck.

"Everywhere" she breathed, fondly reminiscing. She caught herself when she saw Sandor again, and her returned shame made her look at the floor.

"Any place in particular?" he asked through gritted teeth. She peeked at his eyes again and they were dark and clouded over. He must be furious with her.

"My…um…my woman's areas" she said barely above a whisper. Sandor suddenly stood up and came towards her. He grabbed her chin and gently forced her head up to look at him. His expression was unreadable.

"And you liked it?" he said in a low, raspy voice. He was far too close for her to think clearly, so she merely nodded. He stepped back and coughed uncomfortably. "You want me to leave?"

"What? No! Of course not!" How could he possibly leave her now? She would be completely helpless without him! "I'm sorry I told you, I just…please don't leave me, I'm sorry!" She started to cry again. He went forward and gathered her into his arms.

"Not forever, Little Bird. Just so you can…um…" he coughed nervously, "take care of yourself"

She looked up at him in surprise and confusion. What was he talking about?

"Well, I doubt you're very comfortable right now," he said awkwardly. Now that he mentioned it, the ache between her legs was incredibly uncomfortable.

"I don't know what you mean," she admitted out loud. This was by far the most awkward conversation of her life—far exceeding the one she'd had with her mother about moon's blood.

He laughed a short, curt laugh. "Never mind, Little Bird. Let's just get you back to bed." She nodded into his chest and let him lead her back. She was tense as he wrapped his arms around her, but unspeakably glad that he was still here with her.

"Thank you, Sandor" she whispered into the darkness. He responded with a grunt and a squeeze before they both drifted off again.

**Teehee : )**


	10. Chapter 10

**Gah! Back to functioning internet! Hallelujah!**

**I struggled sooooo hard with whose point of view to write this from. Sandor won, I like writing him more : )**

**BadassMotherShucker94 gets the dedication in this one-1) for having and awesome penname, and 2) for being inspired to review, it totally makes my day :) On with the chapter!  
**

They'd moved on to the next town before she broached the subject again almost 2 weeks later. He could tell she wanted to ask him something, so he just waited for her to get up the nerve. Finally, on the third night, she cleared her throat from across the room. She was fixing the hem on one of her dresses and kept stabbing herself. Clearly something was on her mind.

"What is it girl?" He was fucking tired and not in the mood to dance around whatever she wanted to say. He waited patiently as she put down her work and wrung her hands a few times. "Spit it out, Sansa" he said a little too roughly. He just didn't have as much patience as he would like tonight. She glared a little at him before she continued

"The other night…when…when I told you about my dream?" He nodded at her. "You asked if I wanted you to leave so I could…take care of myself" she said the words slowly, like she was testing the way she sounded. _Oh fuck, don't remind me. _It had taken all he had not to crush her body to his and touch her in exactly the way she dreamed about.

"And?" he grunted out.

"Well…I was… well see I was wondering what…you meant…by that." She finally stammered out.

"I meant finishing yourself off darlin" he growled out. Was this conversation over yet? He might need to go finish _himself_ off soon. But she was looking even more confused. He ran a frustrated hand through his dirty hair.

"When men are…frustrated…like you were, they can…"

"Oh!" she interrupted, turning a bright shade of red. "I...um…walked in on Robb…once." She said looking at the floor. "But wait…"

"Women can do it too" Sandor hurried to say. He could barely look at her. If she was blushing or biting her lip, he was a goner.

"How?" she asked him in a quiet voice. _Seven Hells, this is what will torture me after I die, for certain. _

"Think of your dream, girl. What was he doing?" He gritted his teeth at the thought of her dream—of any other man touching her, even if she didn't know who it was.

"Oh…Oh! Oh, I…I couldn't possibly do that!" She exclaimed. Given the circumstances, her embarrassment was funny. Kind of.

"Why not, little bird?" He asked. This he had to hear.

"Well…it's not…ladylike, of course!"

Now he had to chuckle. "Says who?"

Her eyes were so huge he could se the whites. "Everyone!"

"Really? Have this talk with your mother, did you? Cersei, maybe?"

"No of course not! This…this is never mentioned!" she looked horrified.

"Your fucking stories again girl? Life. Is not. A story!" He refrained from shouting, but barely. She looked scared again. _Damnit_.

"Do you do it?"

He choked on the wine he was drinking. _Yes, Little Bird, while thinking of you_. "Aye, most men do."

"Even those whom are married?" She asked disbelieving.

"Probably not as much as me. But not many women are clamoring to give me the real thing" he said bitterly, taking another swig of wine.

"I…I shouldn't want those things, Sandor." She said looking at her hands. He looked closely at her. Her mouth was in a tight line, her nails digging into her skin as tears pooled in her eyes. He walked around the table and knelt in front of her, catching her eye. He knew better than to touch her right now.

"It's your body. You can like whatever you want." She looked at him for a very long time, and he didn't move. She finally nodded, and he stood up, desperately needing more wine.

"I'll, uh…go refill this," he forced out, grabbing the flagon. "Shall I, um, knock before I come back in?" she looked confused. "I'll be a while," he explained. Realization dawned on her face, and she blushed again. "Please" she whispered. He needed to leave this fucking room. He nodded curtly before practically running out into the hall.

He shut the door and leaned against it, breathing deeply. He couldn't exactly go downstairs with the state of his manhood right now, but the urge to go back and show the girl _exactly_ what to do was overwhelming. _Just stay put. You can manage that, Dog. _

He could hear her on the other side of the door, pacing. Right about now she would be biting her lip and wringing her hands as she weighed two options. As she did whenever she had to make a decision. _Been watching her closely, have you?_ He relaxed as he heard her lay down on the bed. _She's going to sleep, you can calm down now. _Never would he have thought that she would actually _do _what he had explained to her. He just wanted to give her some space to think.

Until he heard her soft moan, so low he barely heard. If he wasn't so attuned to her he probably would have missed it. He sat bolt upright, straining for another noise. There was a soft rustling, and a quick gasp of surprise. _There's no possible way shes…she was so embarrassed, she can't be. _

But the low groans continued. She was embarrassed of her noises, he could tell that through the door, but she couldn't hold them back. His manhood was at full attention now, straining against his breeches as he ached to touch himself. _She is masturbating not 20 feet from where you stand_ he thought as he reached a hand down to rub himself through his pants. He had to bite his lip hard to keep from groaning himself. He was so _fucking _sensitive. He was ashamed at listening to her private moment, but he couldn't help it.

He heard the wet _shlick shlick shlick _and her heavy breathing. He rubbed harder, not daring to take his cock out in the middle of the hall, but desperately wanting to. Her moans were getting a little louder now. _Who is she thinking about, Dog? Not you, that's for sure. Never you in a thousand years. _But that didn't stop his ministrations, nor the images of her underneath him, making these glorious noises while he made love to her. _Come on baby, come for me _he thought, the pressure on his dick becoming almost painful.

Finally, she let out a huge gasp. Sandor couldn't help the grunt as he came in his breeches. She moaned as she came down from her first orgasm. Sandor felt so sickeningly proud that he shared it with her, _even though she doesn't fucking know that, you sick man_. She would be furious and scared of him, but he honestly couldn't help it. _Because you're a pathetic Dog, not her knight._

That idea was so painful to him as he slumped against the door again. Knights don't hover outside girl's bedrooms in the middle of the night, straining to hear any sound they might make. Knights wouldn't stay and spy on private moments. Knights wouldn't picture making love to women that aren't theirs.

Sandor froze at that thought. _Making love. _Not fucking. Making love. He let his head fall back against the door. _Oh Gods. _


	11. Chapter 11

**This one goes out to a reviewer simply called "Loving it" who asked if the fact that I had three chapters written means I would update quickly. Well, if I had any brains I would drag it out a little…**

**But yes, that is exactly what it means : )**

Sansa prayed that sleep would find her before Sandor came back. Her embarrassment would be clear as day on her face. That was…interesting. Alright, it was bloody fantastic. But she couldn't help feel that her dreams were even better than that. A sinking part of her knew that the frustration she felt in the morning would not stop. And now that Sandor knew what her dreams were…oh gods, could one die of shame?

Oh Sandor; but he had been right. She did enjoy that—immensely. Cersei had said that what lay between her legs was a weapon. 2 months ago she would have considered it a curse. Now she didn't know what to think. Her child was going to come from there in 5 months. And she had a wholly pleasurable experience not moments ago… Perhaps this was her way to reclaim her body as her own.

Sansa fell asleep with a small smile on her face at the thought.

* * *

But she woke up screaming. Not even what happened last night could keep her nightmares away, apparently. She was shaking and crying out as she reached for Sandor behind her…

He wasn't there.

Sansa sat bolt upright in a panic. Where was he? Had something happened to him? Did he leave her? He never left without saying goodbye in the morning. What in the hells had woken her?

Then she heard the knocking and a soft voice call, "Milady?"

Sansa jumped out of bed, checked herself quickly, and went to answer. A maid no older than Arya stood on the other side of the door, nervously looking at her through her thick eyelashes.

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am. I was just cleaning the room next door and um…heard you. Thought you might need some help."

"I'm fine, child," Sansa breathed out. "Just a bad dream." The girl curtsied and turned to leave before she stopped her. "Pray, might you know where my husband is this morning?"

"Um…downstairs, milady." The girl answered a little sheepishly. What was he doing down there so early? The sun had barely begun to rise. Sansa put on her easiest dress to lace, braided her hair, and went downstairs.

The man behind the bar gave her a short nod and gestured to a table across the small room. Sansa found her husband sleeping soundly over the table, a jug of wine still clenched in one fist and the other slung down over his lap. _I thought he was growing out of this. _

She went over and gently smoothes his hair from his face, before taking his shoulder and giving it a small shake. He immediately woke, grabbing her wrist tightly in one hand and unsheathing his dagger with the other. He blinked a few times before seeing whom in was. He dropped her wrist as quickly as he could and stood up, putting some distance between them. What was _wrong_ with him?

"What do you want, girl?"

She was taken aback at his harsh tone. "You were gone," she said simply. What did he think she wanted? "I had a nightmare" she elaborated, "I sought you out, but you weren't there. I was worried."

"And you needed your trusty dog to cuddle with in the morning?" His words stung, harshly.

"Are you laughing at me?" she said quietly. Last night he was so…not understanding, but as helpful as he could be. And really, no one else would be that brutally honest with her, enough to tell her the truth about those things. Why was he being so cruel now?

He flinched a little at her words, as though he felt badly. "No, little bird. I'm just sour from remnants of drinking." She raised her eyebrows; that was the closest thing to an apology she'd ever received from him. Probably the closest thing he'd ever delivered.

She approached him to take the wine away, and he stiffened as she did so. What on earth was wrong with him? She took the jug back to the bar and asked for water and food to break their fast. She joined him again, sitting at the table. "Why were you drinking?" He raised an eyebrow before joining her. "You haven't in some time."

He snorted, "great way to take your mind off things, Little Bird." She rolled her eyes at his cryptic response; let him keep his secrets. She changed the topic.

"Do you have any work to do in the village today?" He looked at her strangely before answering.

"No, I finished with the smith yesterday. I thought this would be our last night here." Sansa groaned inside. The last night in a village meant at least 3 days spent on the road to get to another town, which was far enough away so as not to draw suspicion.

"Well, if this is our last day here, I should like to actually see the village we've called home for week." Sandor immediately shook his head, but she interrupted before he could protest. "Sandor, riding was exhausting last week. I'll need my strength. My back is hurting from sitting all day. A simple walk will do me good." She was interrupted by the owner setting down food and water in front of them. Sansa gave him a thankful smile and immediately set to eating.

Sandor sat back and just watched her with his arms crossed over his chest and a bemused expression on his face. Sansa looked up at him with a mouth full of food.

"We should bring food with us as well." Sandor barked out a laugh and began eating as well. Sansa was done long before he was, and she looked up at him, wiped her mouth, and said, "You can join me on this walk or no, but I'm going."

"Little bird…"

Instead of waiting for him to finish, she simply stood up and walked towards the door. He caught up with her before she reached it and put a hand on her arm. "Fine, girl. Just let me get my sword." Sansa had to resist giggling like a little girl, but did flash him her brightest smile. He coughed and rubbed his neck awkwardly before retreating upstairs. Sansa waited a few moments before he returned with his sword and a cloak for her. She gratefully draped it around her shoulders and they set off.

Just behind the inn was a farm. The man working it, who looked very similar to the innkeeper, nodded at Sandor and continued to shovel out a pen. Sansa raised her eyes at him, and he shrugged. "His brother. Helped him out with something our first day here." Sansa smiled to herself as they walked farther. They passed a flower merchant who offered "the mother of beauty" a free rose. Sandor scowled at him and he quickly shrunk away. They passed a meat seller awhile later, and Sansa begged him for some smoked pork. He sighed and removed a coin from his satchel, getting it for her.

They sat under a tree eating while Sandor told her of the other people in the town, giggling at the small scandals he knew she'd enjoy. When she had finished, she looked at him curiously before asking, "and where is the smith?"

"Past that street over there, why?"

"I should like to see it," she said standing up. He rose as well and offered her his arm. When they reached the door he knocked gently, "never startle a man with red-hot tools," he joked.

"Enter!" Sandor pushed the door open. "Jon!" the man called jovially. "I thought our business concluded yesterday!" Catching a glimpse of Sansa he smiled even brighter. "And this must be that pretty wife you told me so much about! Sara, isn't it?"

Sansa smiled to herself as she came forward and took the hand he offered. She had chosen Sandor's name, as he had chosen hers. "It is, sir." He kissed her hand and chuckled. "Well dear, I see Jon wasn't exaggerating. You are every bit as beautiful as he said. Barely said a word for 2 days, I ask him a question about you and I feel like I already know you!" He laughed again. Sandor coughed awkwardly behind her, but Sansa liked this man; he had a good heart.

"We leaving tomorrow, and I just had to know what my husband had been doing these past few days" she said with a warm smile.

"Well come out back! Let me show you." He gave her his arm and led her out the back door. There stood a pen with several horses, all shoed and tied to the same chain. "Had to shoe and make lead chains for all the horses in town. Horses just don't like me, but Jon here has a knack for 'em."

"That he does," she said approaching a chocolate brown mare at the head of the herd. "Milady, I wouldn't…" the smith called out after her. But it was too late. The mare had already reared up onto its hind legs ready to kick her away. Sansa prepared herself for the inevitable blow, but instead found herself pulled backwards into strong arms.

She looked up into Sandor's eyes, both of them breathing hard. One hand was clenched tightly around her shoulders, the other covering her stomach.


	12. Chapter 12

**WITHOUT A DOUBT Miss Shire gets the dedication! I may or may not have yelled out squeeee in the library and gotten dirty looks, and I don't care AT ALL! Hopefully I can make you feel squee with this one. **

Sandor lay awake that night, thinking about saving her from that mare 2 weeks ago. It had been purely instinct that had caused him to throw his other hand over her belly, but he felt as though he should protect the baby too. Sometimes when they lay together at night, he would let his hand rest there for a few moments. Sometimes he even fooled himself into thinking it _was_ his child they were carrying; he pictured a girl that would have dark hair and sea-blue eyes and wouldn't fear her father's grotesque face. They weren't sleeping under a tree in the woods, but in their home in the softest bed in Westeros.

Oh yes, he was a stupid man. But protect them he could do. And he would give his life to ensure the two of them were safe, that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. How laughable it was, that the only thing he had in this world, the only thing he would die for, was something that would never be his at all. Yes, he would protect them, and currently that meant keeping his distance. He was a dangerous man to be tied to.

So he had to move his hand, careful not to graze her growing breasts or widening hips. _Shit. _His manhood clearly didn't even need the touch—the mere thought of her growing body was enough to stiffen him.

And those _fucking _dreams. They'd seemed to have gotten even worse. He thought that learning to pleasure herself would have helped (even though it was agony for him to leave her be when she needed it,) but those dreams seemed to be getting worse, and more frequent. She was _not _helping him by having one now. She was moaning and writhing back into him. He had half a mind to remove himself completely before she exploded. _What I wouldn't give to have her make those noises while awake. _He didn't have the heart to ask whom she dreamt of, he'd probably want to kill the man. He felt an insane, blinding jealousy at whomever was bringing her joy.

Suddenly, she jolted awake. She was breathing as though she'd just ran through the woods. Sandor just looked at her, praying that her distraction was enough to not notice his hardened cock. Suddenly she flipped onto her stomach and screamed into his cloak that she was using as a pillow. Sandor took the opportunity to sit up in surprise.

"It's not…damnit!" she screamed out. His surprise grew. This was far beyond her normal reaction at these dreams.

"You want me to leave, Little Bird?"

"Like it would help," she mumbled so quietly he barely heard her. She rolled back over and stared up at the clear sky. Sandor hardly knew what to say to comfort her, so he simply stared stupidly at her.

"It's never enough, when I do it myself its not enough!" she clenched her hands into fists and punched the ground as she said it. If she wasn't talking about _that_ he would have sworn she was a child throwing a tantrum. "I need…" suddenly her eyes grew wide and she looked him directly in the eye. Her gaze was penetrating, but he couldn't look away.

"Sandor…" she whispered sitting up to be closer to his face. He could hardly breathe, let alone answer her. _Name it, it's yours. _

"Touch me," she breathed into his mouth. Sandor's world stopped at those words. _No, she couldn't possibly mean…could she? _His entire body froze as he stared at her, her eyes wide in anticipation. Sensing he wasn't going to move, Sansa didn't break her gaze as she took her hand in his and put it on her thigh.

"No!" He shouted, shoving her hand off and standing up, No, he couldn't do this. This beautiful woman was _begging _for it, and all he could think about was protecting her. About his daydream of their life. The life she deserved from someone other than him.

She followed him up, still crying. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I just…Ugh!" He couldn't look back at her now, when his resolve was hanging on by a thread.

"It just…isn't enough," she sounded so lost. "I need… _more_." For fuck sake, she was pleading for him to do this. And why not? _Because give her this, and you're a goner. There's no coming back. _

_Bugger it, as though you're not already completely lost to her. _Damnit, he would do anything she asked.

"Lay back, Little Bird."

Her eyes widened at his words, but she did as he asked. He didn't turn to face her, he simply removed his gloves and whispered, "close your eyes." _Close your eyes and picture your lover from your dreams. _He finally turned to find her in the position he commanded, and he got even harder than he had been. _Didn't know that was possible_.

He lowered himself to his knees, his heart thumping loudly in his chest, threatening to explode outward. He reached out a hand, and grasped her foot. Just a foot, and it elicited a gasp from his little bird. _Seven Hells, I'll never get through this. _He massaged upwards, eliciting groans from her, and he wasn't even at her knee yet. He couldn't stop touching her and her soft, creamy skin. The feel was heavenly.

His touches softened, however, when he reached her thighs. He tentatively lifted her skirt and traced patterns on the creamy expanse there, noting how muscled they were from their long journey. He was acutely aware of the last man to have been here, _no, don't think about it. She asked __you__. _

He reached her widened hip, and was surprised to find no smallclothes there. She was starting to whimper. "Keep your eyes closed, Sansa" he managed to groan out. _For god's sake, don't open your eyes and realize it's __me__ doing this, rather than your pretty knight. _He pictured her eyes wide open, wanting him as he touched her. He pictured using his manhood rather than his fingers, and her smiling as he entered her.

He hadn't even realized he was right at her opening, rubbing up and down her slit. She was _soaking _his fingers onto the ground, and there were no words for how good she felt. How could he think to deny himself this? She was tightening her fists again into the ground, holding her breath in anticipation. She squeaked out, "please…"

And he plunged his finger in. They groaned in unison. She was warm and tight, and for the next few minutes, _his. _Nothing would ever compare to this. And he determined then that he would bring her pleasure where she'd known only pain.

He arched his finger up, and she gasped when he hit one spot. He continued to massage it and she threw her head to the side and mewled. When he added and another finger and twisted, she started to pant in earnest, "please, please, please." _ Please, darling, please come, _he thought to himself. He started to tap that point inside her with his fingers, and her hand flew down to his wrist to hold him there. One more tap and she shouted out into the forest, her whole body tightening, then slumping backward into the earth.

Sandor fought the urge to lean down and kiss her. Instead he removed his fingers and clenched his fist at the missing feeling.

**Short but sweet :) I have been waiting for that for 11 chapters!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Don't ask why I struggled with this chapter, I really couldn't tell you why. But rest assured that I finished it exactly 38 seconds ago, and got it out to you guys as soon as possible because you deserve it.**

**Anyway, I went searching amongst my reviewers today, and Moa-in-the-moon has an AWESOME SanSan story that you all should go read and love. So this chapter is for Moa-in-the-moon : )**

_It was __him__. _Sandor was the man in her dreams. His fingers had felt exactly the same, gently caressing her as they neared her lower lips, then plunging in and drawing such wonderful things out of her. Only this time her dream didn't end. He kept stroking and twisting until she had exploded in pleasure. She was right—she had needed _more. _More than her tiny, inexperienced fingers were able to do.

_Oh Gods, what he must think of me now._ Sansa thought rolling onto her side. Maybe if she curled into a small enough ball, she could disappear entirely. _How stupid I must seem to him. Some poor little girl who can't even pleasure herself properly!_ Any illusions he had about her being a lady were surely gone. She could not explain why, but she desperately valued his high opinion of her.

A bit of her heart broke as he stood and walked away. She heard him groan and slump against a tree not far away, while silent tears streamed down her face. She reached into the bag behind her head to remove what was left of the smoked pork from two towns ago and clutched it to herself as she ate it. She couldn't fight her exhaustion for much longer, but her body felt cold without him.

So she stayed awake all night, waiting for him to come back.

* * *

"What do you dream of?" he asked her from the floor. He hadn't slept with her since that night a week ago. Indeed, he had barely talked to her. This was the first time he'd asked her a question that wasn't necessary. Why he wanted to talk about _this_ again, she had no idea.

"You know what" she answered with a sigh. She could practically see his gritted teeth when he responded.

"No…that. Some days you wake up happy. What are those about?" How did she answer that? Did she tell him that she saw them in a house in the north? That he picked up her dark haired daughter and taught her how to ride? That she giggled and traced his scars out of wonder and not fear?

No, not when it was something he clearly didn't want.

"I dream about her," she said simply, holding a hand to her growing belly.

"What about when you wake up crying and screaming?" She froze at that question. Why would he ask her that? "Is it about what he did?" This was the first time he ever talked about him. She was actually shocked into telling the truth.

"Not exactly," she said in a clearer voice than she thought she could muster. "He's…about to, but usually he…stabs me instead." She closed her eyes and breathed. "I die slowly, drowning in…blood."

She opened her eyes to see him standing over her. She didn't even hear him move. She sat up in bed and stared at him. She tried not to let her eyes wander over his broad chest, legs, and she definitely avoided looking at his hands.

"And those other dreams? You see anyone yet?"

"What's with all the damn questions?" she asked irritably. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. His scowl didn't leave his face. Did he know? Did she say something in her sleep this last week? Did he know that his face manifested in those dreams as well?

"No," she lied. "No, I don't see anyone."

He scoffed to himself and glared at her more. He put an arm on either side of her legs and leaned into her face. She didn't back away. "What else do you want to know?" She had no idea what he was playing at, but she was not in the mood to play along anymore.

"When I was fucking you with my fingers in the woods? Who were you thinking about then? Ser Loras from the tournament? A different one? Joffrey perhaps?" She didn't even control her hand as she reached out and slapped him across the unscarred side of his face. His head stayed turned and he panted heavily through his mouth.

"Get away from me" she seethed. Finally doing as she asked, he backed up until he fell into a chair across from the bed. How dare he? How dare he insinuate that she would _ever_ want Joffrey in that way? She wanted to cry at how miserable he made her feel.

But she was done crying. She examined him in that chair. He looked like he was in pain. His jaw was clenched as he leaned his head backwards against the chair with his eyes screwed shut. Damnit, if it hurt him so much why did he do that?

Once again her body moved of its own accord as she got out of bed and walked over to him. He must have heard her, for his body tensed as she approached him. She finally looked at his hands. They were clenched so tightly he must have been bleeding. She was close enough to reach out a hand to hold his, so she did.

His eyes snapped open when she touched him, and she couldn't miss his glances over the curves of her body. She didn't let go of his hand as she moved even closer, even though he unsuccessfully tried to back farther away from her. She moved more, so that the front of her legs touched his. He was breathing even more heavily now and staring directly into her eyes.

What possessed her to do what she did next, she didn't know. But she stretched out her leg and put it on the outside of his, then slowly sank down to straddle his lap. His hands flew up to her waist to push her off, but it was a hap-hazard effort at best. She simply squeezed his hand away from her waist and put it on her now exposed thigh. She ran it closer to her center, and the more she did the more his breath came in short gasps.

"Close your eyes, Little Bird" he choked out, resting his forehead against hers.

"No," she whispered shaking her head. When he looked up she held his gaze. When she lifted up, another pained look crossed his features before she lowered herself onto his fingers. His eyes practically popped out of his head as he groaned deeply in his throat. He closed his eyes and tried a little harder to move her off of him. She let go of his wrist and put both hands on the side of his face.

"Don't fight me," she whispered inches from his mouth. She fought the urge to press her lips to his, and instead shifted her hips against his fingers. Now it was her turn to groan at the sensations spreading from her center. She rocked her hips again in an effort to get him to _move, _to speak, to do _anything_.

When she rocked over the stiffness between his legs, he cried out and wrapped his other arm around her. He pulled her flush against him and breathed into her hair. She heard him whisper "Sansa," and gently stroke his fingers inside of her.

She pulled back a few inches to look in his eyes again. "Sandor" she whispered back. It was more of a plea. "Please," she begged him. Suddenly he lifted her up and walked her into the wall. He stared directly into her eyes as her legs were wrapped around his waist, leaving only the room for his hand to reach inside her.

Sandor started to drive his fingers into her, twisting as he pulled out before plunging in again. Sansa moaned and reached her hands up into his hair. When she pulled, his hips surged forward and she gasped again. _More, please more of that. _She was rewarded by him doing it again. And again. And Again. She gripped his wide shoulders and reached for…_something._

Strangely, feeling his bulging muscle and driving hips pushed her even further than last time. When stars exploded behind her eyes this time, she felt like he was pushing her off a cliff, but holding on to her so she didn't fall.

* * *

**Aaaaaaand I'm off to take a cold shower. **


	14. Chapter 14

**This one goes out to DeathbyMonkees: I too cannot wait for them to get down to business : ) So much so that I kind of am starting to hate all the chapters that are coming before that! But I know character development is important…damnit.**

* * *

He dreamt that night.

**He had her pressed against the wall again, thrusting towards her as his fingers moved in and out of her. She screamed as she came again, screamed his name. How he loved making her smile breathlessly like she was now. Hell, smile at all. In his dreams, he got to do it a lot. There was rarely a time she didn't smile at him. **

**As he let her down, she adjusted her skirts and leaned up to kiss him. Quickly, as though she did it all the time. Her mouth felt soft and inviting against his. _And perfect._ Suddenly they heard someone scrambling up the stairs. They didn't have long to wait before a little girl with dark curls came bounding into the room. **

"**Mommy, mommy! You said we could make lemon cakes in the morning! It's morning! It's morning!"**

"**Alright Cat, I'll be right down." Sansa said with a laugh, pecking Sandor again. _Thank the gods she didn't rush in any sooner. _ **

"**No! Daddy has to help too!" the little girl said running over to Sandor and leaping into his arms. "You'll help, won't you Daddy? The new baby loves my cakes." Sandor glanced over to Sansa's stomach that had grown again, now with his child. **

"**Dunno how much good I'll be, but I'll help" he said while kissing the girl on the forehead. **

"**Yay!" she squealed while kicking her legs into his sides.**

Sandor woke up to his hand laid across Sansa's stomach. She was sitting up with a bemused expression on her face. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss her like he had in his dream. But he froze when he felt the soft taps coming out of her stomach.

"What the hells is that?" Sansa laughed at his terrified face.

"She kicks, Sandor."

"But…why?"

She shrugged. "Mostly when she hears your voice, actually" she smiled shyly at him. "You were mumbling in your sleep, so she started kicking up a storm."

He huffed as he removed his hand and got out of bed. "Stupid little girl," he mumbled. He wasn't really sure if he meant Sansa or the baby. Sansa let out her own huff and followed him out of bed. Once again she grabbed a hold of his hand and placed it on her belly, this time in a different spot.

"Do you feel that?" This feeling was different—a sort of quick thump, almost a hum, deeper inside of her. Try as he might, he couldn't tear his hand away.

"That's her heart," she said looking directly into his eyes. He looked back at her and couldn't look away from the depths of blue he found there.

"When did you stop fearing my face, girl?" he said in a whisper. She looked puzzled for a moment before shaking her head.

"It wasn't your face I feared." _Liar. I saw your revulsion every time, Little Bird. _He moved to pull his hand away from her stomach, but she stopped him.

"Your scars are fearsome to behold, but it was your eyes more than anything." He stopped trying to get away now, and just held her gaze. "They were so…sad. And angry. And confused….It was so painful to look at. So I didn't." She hung her head now, as though she had something to be ashamed of.

"Am I not sad and angry anymore?" He asked bitterly. Of course he was. But she gave him another sly grin and shook her head.

"No," she reached up a hand towards his eyes, "your smiles reach your eyes now." She absently traced the lines around there, completely unaware of the effect her touch had on him. _Hells girl, this kind of touch is better than what I do for you. _She was so _damn close_ again; her belly was almost touching his. He could lean just a little and have his mouth on hers…

A knock at the door interrupted the cloud around their moment. Sansa wrapped a robe around herself as he went to admit the serving maid carrying a tray of porridge for breakfast. Sandor took the opportunity to clear his head. _You've had your fingers buried knuckle deep in her, and all you can think about is a kiss?_

They sat down at the tiny table and began to eat. Sansa's hands were twitching. _Could she really have been telling the truth? Do my scars not scare you anymore? Well, so what? Even if that were true, what happened in dreams won't be coming true. _He wasn't good for much else other than fighting. Certainly not holding little girls and promising to make lemon cakes with them. He wasn't fit to be her…husband. Or that baby's father. He was regretting even thinking the words. That ache in his chest was back—the ache of wanting something you couldn't _possibly _have. Damn her, damn her for putting it back in there when he was trying so hard to stamp it out.

"So what's your plan?" he asked her. She looked up, clearly having been lost in her own thoughts. Once again, she had finished eating far more quickly than he.

"Beg pardon?"

"Eventually that thing is going to be outside of you and kicking for real. What are you planning on doing?"

"I…I don't know." He grunted in his throat.

"She can't afford to have you keep being a stupid little bird."

"I know that!" she snapped at him, a little bit of fire in her eyes.

"Then quit spouting out your little chirps and tell me what you want to do!"

"I'm doing my best!"

"The hell you are!" She stared at him, practically shaking from anger. Before a tear welled in her eye and rolled down her face. She hadn't reached up to angrily wipe it away before the hole in his chest was back. _Why do you have to be such a bastard?_

"Every night I have one of my fairy tale dreams is a night I don't dream about…" her voice caught before she could finish. But she didn't have to. Somehow, she didn't cry as she continued. "It's taking everything I have to focus on her stupid little kicks instead of what happened in King's Landing." she bit her lip to keep from crying. "I don't have the strength for anything more."

He looked at her for a long time. "Alright."


	15. Chapter 15

**So this chapter is for a new reviewer—new to fanfiction also, so welcome. Weaver-Of-Words-And-Dreams gave me the most thoughtful and heartfelt review ever, and I appreciated it immensely. That doesn't even cover it, it was absolutely wonderful.**

* * *

She couldn't think about the past. Or even the future really. All she could think about was taking care of herself in this moment. She should have been grateful that at least one of them was thinking ahead, but it was just too damn hard for her to do.

Once he left for the day she thought about their encounter. How strange, that the person thinking ahead was the person that could make her forget so easily. When she was looking into his eyes and stroking his face, she forgot that she _wasn't _carrying his child. That she _wasn't _conceived out of love. All she could think about was what his mouth would feel like…

_Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Can you not see how badly he wants to be away from you? _He practically screamed at her for not having any sort of plan. And clearly still found her girlish fantasies merely that…fantasies. But no matter what she did, she couldn't stop her mind from drifting back to that moment this morning. When he'd held her gaze while standing tall over her. How broad and safe he felt while they were standing there. When she wanted to trail her hands lower, over his shoulders and chest and neck.

_Chores, I need chores. Surely there's some clothing that needs repairing. _And Sansa made that the most productive day of her life. She was desperate to think about anything other than Sandor's hands. She was asleep from exhaustion before he returned that evening.

* * *

When she woke, night had fallen, the moon was almost shining through the clouds, and she could hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance. A shiver passed through her, and she curled into her side, stopping when she hit Sandor's chest. She looked up at his face, but he continued to slumber.

Her eyes drifted down again over his broad shoulders and muscled chest. He'd taken off his shirt before climbing into bed, so she could finally see the hair that lay there, as well as the remnants of dirt that clung to his skin. Her hand acted without her brain's cooperation as she reached out to touch him.

He grumbled in his sleep as she did, but remained unconscious. She gently grazed from one should to the other, marveling at how soft his skin was, and the hard muscle underneath.

On his left shoulder was a jagged scar the size of her palm. She traced the line with the tip of her finger before stretching up and covering it with her mouth. His chest rose abruptly as she did, and she froze. When his even breathing continued, she pulled back and looked at his face. He looked so much more relaxed while he slept. She never realized how much tension he carried in his eyes and jaw. She reached up to see if she could smooth it out even more.

_What are you doing? _Truthfully, she didn't know. But she liked having this level of control. _Like he does when killing. _She liked seeing him without all his defenses up. So without really knowing why, she trailed her fingers lower, over his taut stomach that was so different from her bulging one.

When she reached his legs, she felt even more muscle. Well of course, he spends his days riding and smithing and building and…_taking care of you_.

Why did he stay? Why did he take her from King's Landing? Why didn't he leave when they discovered she was pregnant? Or when she threw the tea away? Why didn't he bring her to Robb and leave her there?

_You're not really this stupid, Girl. _Some misguided sense of obligation? _Really? Why else would I save you from wild mares and sleep at inns more often than we should? _No, no he couldn't possibly…could he?

She must have gripped his thigh a little too hard, because suddenly his hand was over hers. She looked into his eyes, and saw the truth. He yearned for her, he worried about her, and he loved her the only way he knew how—gruffly and tentatively and wholly.

So she leaned forward and pressed her lips to another scar right above his waist.

**GAH! I wonder what will happen! Runs away giggling in a corner. **


	16. Chapter 16

**So I totally thought I had dedicated a chapter to Kiyoko Usagi already, which was why I hadn't done it! So sorry my dear, but if anyone deserves this chapter, its you **

**And another one of my reviewers told me to get my ass out of the corner and get writing…**

**Yes ma'am! : )**

* * *

He had to be dreaming. The tingling in his thighs and groin were sure signs her was dreaming. When her hand squeezed his upper thigh he _had_ to still be dreaming. But when he chanced to open his eyes, he looked down directly into hers.

_What the fuck? _What is she even doing awake? And down there? He desperately tried to stop the erotic fantasies running through his mind alongside those questions. But his heart and brain stopped when she kissed a scar from a dagger he'd once taken in the gut. _So much for keeping from getting hard._ He wrenched her up by her shoulders, probably harder than was good for her. But the last thing he needed was her mouth that close to his rapidly hardening cock.

"What are you doing?" Damnit, of all the times for his voice to sound weak. She gulped, drawing his eyes to her throat—her perfect, slender throat. _Stop it._ He really needed to get this under control. Or better yet, get her _off _him.

She broke their eye contact and looked down as she shifted her hips. But that tiny movement brought her thigh in contact with his manhood. He shut his eyes and gripped her in place, barely masking the groan in his throat. Sansa audibly gulped again, but shifted her hips towards his again.

"Damnit, girl" he groaned out. She was fucking doing this on purpose. _So get her off. What's so hard about that? _His brain mocked. Are you kidding? He couldn't move her if he tried. Hell, he was half convinced he was still dreaming at the moment. But fuck if he was going to wake himself up.

So he ran his huge hands backwards over her shoulders and down to her waist. _What are you doing, Dog? You aren't fit to touch her like this._ But he squeezed her wide hips, and she shifted into him again. He groaned aloud this time, and instead of frightening her off, she leaned up and pressed her lips into his neck.

He sat bolt upright, holding her in his lap. Yea, she knew exactly what she was doing. But why the fuck was she? He looked into her deep blue eyes, but couldn't find any answers there. He knew why he wanted to pull her mouth to his, why he wanted to press his tongue into her mouth and breath air into her. But Gods help him if he would force anything on her she didn't want. So he held himself up with his hands as she trailed her tiny fingers over his chest.

She circled lower, tracing her patterns into his abdomen. Then she brought her hands around to his back, coming as close to him as her stomach would allow. He could feel the warmth coming from her center directly over him. Somehow he remained absolutely still as her hands went even lower over his ass and back around to the outsides of his thighs. He moaned, and a thousand fantasies ran through his head again, but he remained still as he watched her fascination.

_She curious, that's all. She'll stop this sweet agony soon. _But she didn't stop. She brought one hand forward to touch his stiff manhood through his breeches. That was too far—he snatched her hand up. "Little Bird…" he warned before she pressed her other hand to his mouth. There was only so far she could push him.

"Shhh…" she reached over to stroke the scared side of his face. "For one night can't I just be Sansa?"

"Why are you doing this, Sansa," he growled out. _Why the fuck are you torturing me like this?_

"I…I just…"

"No chirping, girl."

"_Sansa_" she said angrily. "And I'm _not _chirping." Then she did something he never expected. She reached down to the bottom of her shift and pulled it up over her head.

He screwed his eyes shut the second she did that, so she took one of his hands and placed it over her breast. Seven Hells, it had grown so large it filled his hand. He felt both her hands on the side of his face. "Look at me," she whispered so close to him he could feel her breath. He shook his head, not having the strength to move his hand away yet.

"I can't," he whispered back.

She leaned back a little, and he shamefully couldn't let her leave completely. He could practically hear the smile in her voice when she took the hand covering her breast and made him squeeze before moving it to the other. "Then touch me."

He growled and complied. He squeezed that breast on his own, using his arm to pull her as close to him as he could manage. He felt the soft flesh in his hand, then ran his bulky fingers over the nipple, twisting and pulling. When she moaned and gripped his hair, he was lost.

He wrenched his head down and replaced his hand with his mouth. He kissed and licked around her _perfect_ breast, grazing her nipple with his teeth before moving to the other one. She started pulled at his hair now and brazenly grinding into his lap. He moved his hands down to her ass and helped her along, setting a steady motion.

"Sandor," she moaned and he was immediately called back to earth. He moved his hands up to her back and hugged her close while burying his face in her neck. Damnit, was there any part of her that wasn't soft and inviting? Once again she put her hands on the side of his face and coaxing him to look up at her. "Look at me." His eyes zoned in on hers; he looked nowhere else. She licked her lips as her eyes darkened. _Why does she want this so badly? Why is kissing those damn lips all I can think about?_ How badly he wanted to kiss her, and to have her kiss him back.

He had no idea how long they sat there before she leaned forward and kissed his neck again. He could see down her back; there wasn't a blemish on her warm skin. He saw the top of her bottom, and against his will gripped it with his hands. She started moving again, and he didn't try to stop her this time. Instead he brought her closer with one hand and put his mouth on her neck with his other.

He licked and sucked, using her gasps and moans to guide his actions. He fought the urge to mark her, to make her _his _and no one else's. But she would probably hate that, so he moved from his spot and just focused on her sounds. He was so deep in concentration that he didn't even notice she undid his pants until she had his cock gripped in her tiny hand, but then he cried out.

She immediately dropped it and sputtered out apologies. He gripped her so hard he was sure to leave bruises, but he only succeeded in bringing her dripping center to rest right over his manhood. _Fuck, she is so wet. _He gripped even tighter, but she didn't complain, she just breathed hard.

"You don't want this, Little Bird." He groaned out.

"Sansa," she emphasized as she started moving over his cock.

"Seven Hells, girl," he moaned out. He couldn't help it. _She's not yours, she's not yours. She's. Not. Yours. _But no matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

"Sansa" she whispered so close he could feel her breathe on his mouth. With one final look into his eyes, she lifted herself up, and buried his manhood deep inside her.

_Did you really stand a chance anyway?_ No, no he didn't. So he groaned at the contact, and he fought the urge to pound into her relentlessly. She was calling the shots: he would do anything for her.

Her face was contorted—she almost looked confused, but he couldn't tell if it was hurting her. He was about to pull her off (even though every part of his soul was telling him not to) when her eyes snapped open into his and she started to move.

_Oh God, _she was moving slowly, as though she didn't know what to do. _Well she doesn't, you moron. _So he put his hands on her waist and guided her. He wanted to talk, to help her through, but all coherent thought was gone. All he could do was grunt at what she was doing. _So tight and warm and beautiful. _She suddenly stopped and smiled down at him. That bright, carefree smile from his dream. She bit her lip and tightened her hips around his, gripping his shoulders and shyly nodding her head.

Needing no more encouragement, Sandor took her into his huge arms, stood up, and flipped them so she was laying on her back on the bed. He was kneeling on the ground, knowing he had her belly to avoid. But her womanhood lined up perfectly, and he sank in again.

She arched up as he did, moaning and drawing him farther in. He tried, he really tried to go slow. But she felt _so fucking good. _So he slid in faster, and she got even louder. _Fuck, make this good for her, make her forget. _He started going even faster, hearing the slapping of their skin and the groans they both were making. She suddenly gasped and sat up again. "There, there!"

He wrapped his arms around her as best he could and hammered into her. She had her hands gripped in his hair again and was saying his name in a low mantra "Sandor, Sandor, Sandor…"

The last time she said it he felt her convulse around him, and a shot of wet warmth spread around him. With two more strokes and a strangled "Sansa," he shot his load deep inside her.

She sat there breathing deeply, her sweat giving her a glow he couldn't take his eyes off of. She gripped his face in her hands and smiled at him. No regret, no fear, just a smile. _She is a goddess. _And she leaned back onto the bed, pulling him with her. He pulled her into his chest and fell asleep with one thought.

_Maybe, just maybe you two will be alright. _

**  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**So I've been bitching to myself about how I haven't gotten any updates on my stories in the last two days, and then I was like "huh, this is what hypocrisy feels like." My bad! So I got off my butt and wrote the next chapter. And just so you know the chapter after this has been written for a WHILE, so it'll be out soon. **

**Dedication goes to Mundi Nova, who was finally inspired to review, although I hope she doesn't hate me too much after this one.**

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Sansa slept well into mid-morning. Sandor had already left to help an old farmer on the edge of town. For the first time in weeks, she hadn't dreamed. _Exhaustion will do that to you. _Instead she woke up with a smile on her face and a pleasant ache in her muscles. This was what it should be like—no screaming, or bruises, or crippling pain, but caresses and sweat and need and being so lost in pleasure you forget your own name.

Sansa stretched as far as her body would allow her. Yes, this was an ache she liked. The one in her back she could do without. It had been her companion for a fortnight now, and her reprieve last night was long over. It was hard for her to even sit up, let alone get out of bed. She felt incredibly large and useless without him here—she liked it far more when he was home, for he looked at her like she was beautiful.

_Ugh, I'm huge _she thought as she dragged herself out of bed. She pulled on a dress, having so much difficulty lacing it that she almost gave up and went right back to bed. She looked in the mirror and smiled. _Alright, maybe it's not so bad. _Sandor certainly liked her growing hips and breasts. She traced her fingers over her body, biting her lip as she gave herself little sparks that were shadows of the sensations he had given her last night. Just thinking about him made her feel good again.

Good enough to actually leave the room. The simplest tasks might exhaust her, but she could not bear to sit in a chair all day—her back might break in half. So she got out the thick cloak Sandor had gotten for her in the last town, got out the last of the salted pork, and set out.

She had a few coins with her, so the first thing she did was buy more meat. She sat on a tiny mound of a hill and looked at the bustle of the market. The woodworker carved in front of her, making a chair. Nothing special, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and a furrowed brow showed his deep concentration. This man loved what he did. A blond woman came up behind him with 3 small children following behind her. She kissed him and murmured something in his ear. He bent down to kiss each of his children before they waved good-bye.

That was what she wanted. She wanted a simpler life without lies and games. She doubted these people cared who the king was. Their children weren't pawns, they were cherished. Sansa's hand went to her stomach, to the child she would cherish. The blond woman passed her as she left, and they exchanged a knowing smile.

Joffrey relinquished his claim on her the second Gregor touched her. They'd been on the run for 6 months and been to countless towns. No one was following them. They could finally stop, right? They could build a life here. Sansa could be friends with that blond woman, and their children could play together.

_Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. _She would need to discuss it with her. He may love her, and even show affection toward their baby, but she had no idea how he would feel about her plan. She just wanted to control her own life instead of reacting to what someone else might do. _And really, when does he ever not give you what you want?_

She'd had enough sitting. She got up and walked through the town with a smile on her face. She could imagine waving to the people in town, and them inquiring after her family. She could imagine buying things and bringing them back to the house she shared with her husband and children.

She was so lost in her thoughts that the shock to her system was immediate when she heard a menacing voice behind her she never expected to hear again.

"Hello, Beautiful"

She froze where she stood. Surely she was imagining this. He couldn't be here. The people of the town were milling about normally, as though nothing was wrong. And she was stuck in the deepest hell. He came around to look at her. His pitch black eyes roved over her body, and he licked his lips. How could she ever think he was similar to Sandor in any way? He was a monster.

"So tell me, is that thing mine? Or did my brother fuck you right after and put a pup in you?" Tears started to fall silently down her cheeks. She still couldn't bring herself to speak. He came a little closer to her and ran a finger over her cheek. That gesture from Sandor and she would have melted, from him she wanted to vomit. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" He came even closer, he was breathing into her face. She wondered if she could make a break from him. She knew where the farmer lived, could she reach Sandor before his brother caught her?

"You're going to go back to where you're staying, get some money, and come with me." She started shaking in fear. No, she would never be able to reach Sandor, nor would she want to put him in danger anyway. She started to put her walls up. Her pretty words were all that could possibly protect her now.

"How much do we need, My lord?"

"Need?" He chuckled, "no, no, girl. _Need_ is not the point."

"What is, my lord?" she asked through gritted teeth. He gripped her arm painfully and she whimpered. He smirked at that and whispered to her.

"My brother took something that belonged to me. And I'm taking it back, with interest." He started to drag her towards the inn. "You'll take all of it, girl." How did he know where to go? How long had he been watching them? Was he even at the same in? People were looking now, but only fleeting glances before returning to their own lives. She shouldn't have wanted them to put themselves in harms way for her, anyway.

When they reached the entrance of her latest home, he shoved her towards the door. "Off you go." She looked at him quizzically. There was no way he was letting her go in alone, was he? He chuckled again, somehow managing to make that dark too. "Don't want to draw attention, now do we?" Her eyes darted around, she was trying to remember if there was a back door to this place.

The gesture did not go unnoticed. He gripped her arm again and said in a low voice. "Try it, just try it. I'll fuck you again and make your precious dog watch before I kill him." She clenched her jaw and nodded. She needed to accept her fate.

There would be no blond friends, no simple life. Her child would become a monster like its father, and there was nothing to do about it. She climbed the stairs with a heavy, but determined, heart.

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**Runs away yelling over shoulder "Don't hate meeeeeeeeee!"**

**But come now, you didn't think I was going to make it that _easy_ did you ; )**


	18. Chapter 18

**Oh my awesome readers, how I adore you guys for loving that there was conflict now instead of coming after me with the pitchforks…**

**Shout out to Karoly on this one—short and sweet review that made me smile : )**

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Sansa frantically tried to gather her things. She had some idea of where Sandor kept his money, but if it would be enough to have Gregor leave, she had no idea.

Sansa froze when she heard his voice at the door.

"You're leaving me?" He didn't sound angry. In fact she barely heard him. He sounded small and defeated. She whirled around to face him, about to protest before Gregor's words filled her mind.

_I'll fuck you again and make your precious dog watch before I kill him. _No, she had to protect him, that what you do when…_when you love someone. _Her breath caught in her throat. She loved him. If last night hadn't proved that, then what she was doing now certainly did. Sandor had suffered too much at Gregor's hands for her to let it happen again.

She _was _leaving him. But there was only one way to make sure he didn't follow her and fight for her and put himself in harms way. He had given her the perfect excuse; this was going to kill her, and him.

"Yes," she whispered into the ground. His shoulders slumped, as though his last remaining hope was crushed out of him. She wanted to scream at the pain she was causing him.

"A man in town told me to come home right away…said you looked strange." Sansa held her breath. Did he know his brother was here?

"Now I know why I guess," he said with a dark chuckle. _Oh thank the Gods, he'll be safe. _She couldn't move though, she didn't know how she was going to get out.

"Is that enough?" he gritted out, gesturing to the bag of money she was holding. _Please don't do this. Don't make sure I'll be alright as I'm killing you. _

"It'll be fine," she said praying the tears wouldn't fall from her eyes.

"Take it all" he growled at her, not moving from his spot just inside the door.

"Sandor, please…"

"It was for you anyway!" he said a little more forcefully, "you and our…" his voice caught and his eyes clouded over in what was surely anger. "…and that thing," he finished nodding at her bulging stomach. He tore the other pouch he wore at his belt and flung it at the bed. Sansa flinched away from it.

_Oh Gods, why couldn't Gregor have just grabbed me and left? Why couldn't Sandor have stayed out as long as he normally does? _It was killing her to hurt him this much, but she had to save him as he had saved her countless times.

She tied up the bag and made to leave. She couldn't bear this any longer; she was sure to slip up and say something to tip him off. So she walked swiftly towards the door, stopping in her tracks when she felt Sandor's grip on her arm.

"Please don't leave me Sansa."

She almost didn't. She almost flung herself into his arms and started to plot a way to sneak out the back way. But his voice sounded so small, like a child's. _Like the child that had his faced shoved in a fire by a monster. _Her mind was made up.

_I love you, Sandor. _

"I can't." The weight on her arm dropped and she forced her feet out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

He begged. He fucking begged, and she still left him. How stupid could he fucking be? She was 6 months big with child, and still the most beautiful woman in the world. Yesterday she'd practically _begged _him to take her to bed. And he'd actually fooled himself into believing that he was a man a woman like that could want.

_Of course not, she was horny. She needed a fuck and you were there. You actually thought she wanted you? That she could ever possibly love you back? _Sandor growled at his thoughts, sliding down the wall onto the floor holding his head in his hands. He crumpled the flower he'd brought home for her in his fist, and threw the bag filled with her favorite smoked pork at the wall across from him.

It certainly seemed like she wanted him, when she looked directly in his eyes and held his face in her hands as he drove into her. How she sighed his name. _Damnit, don't think about it!_ He screamed in his head as he screamed out loud. _That's all you're good for, your sword and your cock. _

And the _next fucking day_ she up and left. She knew it was a mistake after one day. _So much that she couldn't stand the sight of you_. So he sat there and waited for his world to end. Shouldn't be too long now; the only woman who had ever willingly wanted him, who he would ever love, had just walked away from him forever.

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**A/N: You still with me?**


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm so sorry this has taken so long! I should have told you guys that I was going to be taking care of 4 children for the last several days (at least 1 per night thought it was be a GREAT idea to not sleep…awesome) so needless to say, writing kinda took a backseat :( But alas! Pesky kids are gone, I feel I've gone deaf the house is so quiet, and I can go back to giving you updates!**

**Well Keelahraven, your wonderful review (and Harry Potter reference!) made me keep writing the second I read it…well done, you : ) For that last chapter I got 40 reviews! That's freaking amazing. The support you guys give me never ceases to inspire me, and I'm forever grateful. **

**I also got my first _negative _review! Dun dun dun! Oh well, you can't please them all, and I'm honestly glad I could inspire such feeling in the readers, whether they're happy with my choices or not. **

**Anyhoo…enough of my blathering**

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Sansa let the tears fall as she left the room. Every part of her wanted to run back into Sandor's arms and run far, far, away. She wanted her fairytale. But as he continually reminded her, life was not one of her fairy stories. They would never stop running as long as his brother lived. And Sansa would not put him in the kind of danger that facing Gregor presented.

_For once in your life, be a wolf instead of a bird. _Sansa could do that. She could straighten her spine and face her fate. She had 3 months to figure out how to get her child away from him—she could do that too. She was strong enough for this now. _Because Sandor made you that way. _

She was still crying when she reached him. He frowned when he saw that, and reached out a hand to smack her. She'd forgotten how much it stung to be slapped.

"Cut that shit out, you'll draw attention," he growled at her.

"Fine," she gritted out.

He grabbed the bag from her and yanked her along by the arm. Sansa couldn't help the yelp that came out of her mouth at the surprising action. He stopped and gripped her by the hair as he pulled out his knife and held it to her throat.

"What the fuck did I just say?" Sansa bit her tongue, too frightened to say anything as her hands went to cover her stomach. Gregor leaned back and kept dragging her along to a giant black horse that looked so similar to Stranger. He had to drop her arm to ready the horse, and Sansa looked longingly back at the inn she could barely see through the trees.

"Don't even think about it, girl." She really shouldn't. She made her choice. She turned her back on her fairytale and looked at the horse. How could she have mistaken him for Stranger? This horse looked like it could eat her alive if she got too close. _How fitting _she thought bitterly to herself.

Finally, he grabbed her by the arm again and started to wrench her up onto the horse. Sansa didn't hear the rustle behind her of someone rushing up to them. She didn't hear her captor turn and swear at who approached them; it all happened too quickly for that. All she felt was being shoved away and Sandor's roar as he collided with his brother.

* * *

Sandor looked up when he heard her yelp from outside the window. _What the fuck has she already gotten herself into? _His pride fought him hard as he stood up. _She didn't want you, Dog. _But he couldn't let her go off by herself, no matter how repulsive she found him. He could handle the disgust in her eyes as long as he got her somewhere safe, then he would do what she wanted. He would drown his pain far, far away from her so she could marry some lord and raise their babies and have a proper family.

As he got downstairs, he looked to the innkeep. "Where is she?" The man looked at him quizzically before gesturing out the door.

"Off to the East into the wood with some fellow"

"What?"

"Yea," he said continuing to clean the glass, "thought it was you from behind actually."

_So she left you for someone else. _Sandor felt a knife twist into his heart. She met someone in the fucking village and trusted him enough after a _week._ What the fuck had she been doing while he was working all day? He had been keeping her safe for _6 months_, not to mention torturing himself for her pleasure, only to have her leave with some man she'd known _a week._ Sandor almost wanted to laugh at how stupid he was. _She was just trying to spare your feelings this morning. She never thought of you as a family at all. _He wondered how long she'd been planning her little escape.

He suddenly had to see the man that took her away. He would let her go, if that's what she wanted, but he had to look him in the eyes—the man who stole her from him forever. Sandor took off running into the woods, following the heavy footsteps he heard. He _had _to see him. Suddenly, they stopped. So did he. _No, they couldn't have gotten that far that quickly. _He stopped and listened. Finally he heard muffled voices and the sounds of a horse. That had to be them. He took off in the direction of the noise again, determined to at least get a glimpse before they left.

Finally, he caught her hair through the trees, he couldn't see the man yet, but that flash of red was enough. He crept towards her, finding the back of her head through the brush. She was staring at a horse; she looked tense and nervous. Sandor looked at the stallion. _Wait, I know that horse._

Then the man preparing it suddenly turned to yank Sansa toward him. Sandor didn't think as he saw his face. He didn't stop to ponder what he was doing here, he just charged at him, yanking Sansa out of the way and pummeling him to the ground.

* * *

Sansa landed on her side, almost hitting her head on a rock, but managed to cradle her stomach as best she could. She looked up to see Sandor hitting his brother everywhere he could find. Gods be good, he wasn't even wearing full armor. Thankfully he had his sword, but he wasn't using it now. He was so lost in rage he was only using his fists, wrestling on the ground with Gregor with animalistic intensity. Sansa was paralyzed with terror.

She screamed when Gregor threw him, stood, and drew his sword. Sandor drew his as well, standing in between him and Sansa. Gregor's sick smile splayed across his face as he took in the scene.

"Oh don't tell me you actually _care_ for her little brother." Sandor attacked him with a few blows before backing up again.

"Have you had her yet?" Or was she so damaged after me that she couldn't?" Sandor was shaking with rage, and his attacks were sloppy. _No! This is exactly what he wants! _Sansa had no idea how to bring him out of this, but if she didn't he would lose.

"Would you like to know what it was like?" his brother shouted as they trading blows, "she moaned like a whore you know. I think she liked it rough." Sandor rushed him again, furiously roaring and showering him with hits from his sword. But Gregor blocked them all and returned a few of his own.

They had managed to trade places now, with Sandor facing her. She could see the anger in his eyes, the years of pent up rage culminating in this moment. But he was too angry, and too distracted. Gregor charged him now, attacking so fiercely he knocked Sandor's sword to the ground. Sansa screamed again, and Gregor smirked.

"You should watch this, pretty girl." Gregor approached him slowly with his sword raised. "You should know by now I always win, Dog. One way or the other." Sansa backed away from the scene, looking on the ground for anything that would help. She eyed the rock she'd almost hit earlier. When she tried to pick it up though, it remained stuck in the ground. She looked around frantically for something else, aware of how narrowly Sandor was avoiding Gregor's sword. _Faster!_

She saw a thick stick laying a few feet away. She glanced at Gregor to make sure he still had his back to her before running for it. When she reached it she picked it up—it was heavy enough. When she turned back Sandor was on a knee clutching his side. Gregor was approaching him again. _Be a wolf, be a wolf. _As Gregor raised his sword, she raised her stick and smashed it into his head. He dropped the sword and she hit him again in the side with all of her strength.

"You little bitch," he growled as he turned towards her. But he didn't get a chance to touch her. Sandor slammed his whole body into his back and he went down on top of him. In a flash, his knife was at his throat. And the next second his blood was spilling onto the ground.

Sandor stood up, breathing heavily. Shaking, he brought the knife up to look at it disbelievingly. Then he dropped it on the ground and sank to his knees next to his brother's body.

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**See? I wasn't going to torture you guys for too long! Just a little torture...**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey all. So I got a review asking me to put a little warning/disclaimer at the front of my story letting people know that it dealt with rape and pregnancy. I'm so, so sorry if I caused any undue distress to my readers, it was definitely not my intention and I should have done that right off the bat. I have it on the first chapter now, so thank you for letting me know that. **

**This one is dedicated to a reviewer that, while did not leave the most positive review (don't get me wrong, I have plenty of issues with what she did say, but this is not the time nor place) did do their best to offer helpful critique, and definitely did it in a way that meant to be encouraging, not mean at all. Which I absolutely appreciated : ) And don't be silly! You're allowed to sign your name without fear of retaliation!**

**On with it…**

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Sansa breathed just as hard as Sandor, not knowing how to approach him. What could she say after she'd hurt him so badly? After he'd still come after her and saved her yet again? None of her words could ever make up for that. _Not that he'd want to hear your chirping anyway. _She was still contemplating this when he grunted and reached for his side again.

"Sandor you're hurt" she rushed to his side to examine it, but he jerked out of her grasp and stood up.

"It's fine." He said gruffly while walking away from her. He turned his back on her, but at least he wasn't shaking anymore. His back was to her as she slowly approached.

"Please? Just let me look," she said reaching for the hand that covered his wound.

He scoffed at her and hit her hand away. "It's a damn scratch, are you a fucking maester now, girl?" She flinched at his harsh tone, but held her ground.

"No, but I can sew." She reached for the hand again, and he didn't stop her this time. She could feel his eyes on her as she pulled the dirty fabric away to examine his wound, but she didn't dare look at his face. She was almost fearful of what she would find there. As usual when she was nervous, she started talking.

"I used to stitch Arya up. When she hurt herself and didn't want to get in trouble with Maester Luwin, she came to me," she said as she worked. The cut wasn't so deep that he'd be in danger. A simple cleaning and few stitches would do the trick. He grunted when she told him as much, and waited as she tore off clean pieces of her dress to make a temporary bandage for him. She worked in silence for a while until he spoke.

"I'll take you wherever you want." She looked up at him now, but his eyes were on the ground, in the trees, and anywhere but her face. "I'll get you safely anywhere you want. Then you never have to see me again."

"Sandor…"

"Just pick somewhere, Little Bird, and I'll take ya." She couldn't find words to say to him, none that would fix what she had done. But perhaps the truth would suffice.

"I don't want you to leave me." He scoffed at her again.

"Gregor's not here to catch you now, you'll be safe away from me, just like you wanted."

"I lied!" She blurted out. His eyes snapped up to hers, clearly not believing her. He continued, practically shouting now, "He said I had to take money from you, I didn't even want to go up there! And then you were there and I had to keep you away from him, otherwise he would have killed you and…and I had to protect you!"

He hadn't moved throughout her entire rambling, even as tears were streaming down her cheeks. But suddenly he came forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"When did my brother find you, Sansa?"

"I…I went for a walk in the village. He must have been tracking us for a while."

"What the fuck were you doing walking without me!" he screamed while pushing her back a little. She didn't answer, only continued to cry. Sandor paced in front of her, his eyes glancing from her to the body on the ground. This was not going the way she anticipated. But at the very least he deserved the truth now.

"I never wanted to leave. I just…I couldn't let him hurt you anymore."

"So you willingly went with him?" he said, that disbelieving look in his eyes. She just nodded and he shook his head.

"That is such bullshit. Why would you do that?

"I just told you!"

"To protect me? I can take care of myself girl!" He was shouting in her face now.

"I couldn't take the chance! You have to be alive. I love you! I…I don't know how to live in a world where you don't exist…" he was looking at her with a incomprehensible look now.

"What did you say?" she didn't need to ask which part he meant.

"I love you," she whispered looking directly into his eyes. A look of pure anger crossed his face now as he gripped her shoulders almost painfully.

"Do. Not. Lie to me." He said in a whisper as he pushed her away again. The tears started down her cheeks again, but she was determined to make him believe it. _Be a wolf. _

"I'm not lying," she said in a much clearer, albeit desperate, voice.

He shook his head, turning his back on her now. "I just killed the biggest monster you know. You _think _you love me now." He turned back on her. "But you love my sword and my cock, that's all."

She just stared at him in disbelief. How could he possibly think that?

"Of course I love how much you protect us, but I love you for your honesty, and how you make me stronger, and how you help people without wanting any recognition, and…" she could keep going, she really could. He was looking at her almost like he refused to believe her. She approached him, getting so close that her stomach was pressed against him.

"When I'm with you I'm the person I want to be." He didn't answer her for a long time, but he held her gaze. _Maybe he's starting to believe me. _She could hope.

"You don't love me, Little Bird," he said in a pained voice, his gaze dropping down from hers. She was frustrated now.

"Prove it"

A split second passed before his hands were on the sides of her face and his mouth covered hers.

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**Ooh, I'm getting to like this whole "cliffhanger" business : )**


	21. Chapter 21

**Alright, so I wrote 4 chapters of this and then literally _stared_ at the computer screen for 3 days, having NO idea how to continue…I must have written 42 million version of this damn thing, but I finally got something out that I'm willing to publish, so!**

**For that last chapter I had the most "guest" reviewers I've had for any chapter, so this one actually goes out to all of them! Because I think that's very cool :)**

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_Any second now, any second and she'll realize she'll come to her senses and pull away. She couldn't possibly really love you. _He was forcing himself to ignore her warm, soft mouth and her silky hair in his hands. He wasn't moving all that much, for fear of losing himself in the kiss. This was just a test, and it wasn't lost on him that she wasn't kissing him back, so he prepared himself for the inevitable blow.

Instead, her hands snaked up into his hair and her tongue came out to run along his bottom lip. His shock was fleeting as his brain completely gave over to one thought: _she's kissing me back. _

His grip tightened on her as he moved one hand down to her back and walked them backwards until she was against a tree. He couldn't pull her flush against him because of her belly, but somehow he liked cradling the little thing in between them. He opened his mouth and plunged his tongue into hers, taking up all the sweetness he could until she came to her senses. She tasted _amazing_. He could happily spend the rest of his life doing just this.

She smiled into the kiss as he did that, gleefully battling his tongue with her own. When she moaned into his mouth he pressed even tighter into her and growled back. He could not get enough of her as he ran his hands over her body and devoured her mouth. When she pulled back it was only to breathe; she kept her hands in his hair and her forehead against his.

"You believe me now?" He chuckled and gave her a small smile before pecking her lips again. Somehow, he believed her.

"You could do so much better than me," he whispered.

She pulled back and looked him in the eye, her jaw set in a hard line. "Life isn't a fairy story." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"You keep trying to make me into a character in a fairy story, that runs off with some fucking prince and lives a perfect life." Sandor couldn't help but snort when she swore. She looked angry that he did at first, but then he immediately pulled a contrite face and she softened. "I don't want a fairy tale life, Sandor," she said gesturing to her belly, "that ship sailed 6 months ago. I want…the right life."

He shook his head slowly. "You're not allowed to be right" he said with a small smile.

"It _is_ foreign to me," she said smiling back.

He finally took a step back and looked at her. Could she really be right? Could they actually have the right life together? Everything he'd been taught up until that point said no, but her and her damn smile and optimism gave him something he'd never felt before. _Hope. _

He knew he shouldn't hope. He knew a thousand things could take her away from him. But damnit, he _wanted _a life with her, he _wanted _that child to call him "daddy," and he _wanted _her to be right. He yearned for it so painfully he almost couldn't take it.

And now she gave him hope.

He looked down at her face, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking past his shoulder to where his brother's body still lay. He'd honestly forgotten about him in that moment. He brought a hand up to her face to bring it back to his.

"He's gone, Little Bird. He'll never hurt you again." He worried that she would still feel pain at the thought of his monstrous brother, but she just looked at him clearly confused.

"I know that," she said as she moved her hand up to mirror his. "Do you?"

He dropped his hands and pulled hers down as well. "Of course, I…"

"Don't you dare lie to me," she said before he could finish. And for some reason, he couldn't. He could not describe how he felt. And he couldn't lie to her and say everything was fine.

"I'll give you a minute," she said before walking back in the direction of their inn. He followed her as she went, so he caught the look she gave back at him. The loving, trusting look. He kept that image in his mind long after she'd retreated beyond the trees. It was a better image than the one that awaited him when he turned around.

His life since he had been 6 years old had been about killing his brother. That was all he thought about for hours, even days at a time. He dreamed about sneaking into his room and slitting his throat in his sleep. He thought about disemboweling him slowly and painfully. He thought about pushing him off a cliff. He thought about meeting him in the field of battle. What was he going to think about now?

The only goal he'd ever had his entire life was complete. Finished. The only thing that gave his life purpose was gone, and he didn't know how to find a new one.

He sat there contemplating for a long time until he heard rustling and twigs snapping. Sansa emerged from where she had walked away carrying a shovel. He still hadn't turned back to look at his brother. She raised her eyebrows at that, but didn't comment.

"What's that for?" he said gesturing to the shovel. Instead of answering, she walked by him and stared at the body.

"Look at him," she whispered.

Against his better judgment, he did. He turned and stared at his brother's corpse. And he felt the sting of loss—not for that monster, but for himself and Sansa. She wordlessly shoved the shovel at him, but instead of taking it he gave her a disbelieving look.

"You want me to _bury_ this fucker?"

"I _want _you to leave him to rot" she said with aggression that he had not thought her capable of 6 months ago. But her tone softened when she continued, "but you…you _need_ to bury your past."

It took him close to an hour, but Sansa stayed there watching him. He could feel her emotions boring a hole in his back, but he kept working. Like it or not, she was right. He needed to do this.

When he finished the grave, neither of them marked it. He simply dropped the shovel on the mound of dirt and stood beside her. When he looked up the sky was almost dark. Sansa slipped her hand into his and pulled him backwards toward the inn.

"Come on," she started to say as he turned to follow her, "I need to tell you a story."

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**A/N: I have no idea if they have shovels in this universe…lets just pretend they do, yes? Gravediggers have to dig with something...  
**


	22. Chapter 22

**I'm finally back! I'm so sorry to all the faithful readers for my long absence—there was a family issue, and if you want to know the whole story shoot me a PM and I'll gladly tell you (just not going to type the whole story in an AN)**

**You all have Moa-in-the-Moon to thank for the long-awaited update. Not only has her own SanSan story taken a _fabulous _turn, which has inspired me greatly, but she sent me the nicest "hope everything is ok" PM and I thought that was so sweet that I had to at least _try_ : )**

**Upfront Warning this time: if you don't like descriptions of rape this chapter is not for you. I will try not to have any major plot development so that if it _does _make you uncomfortable, you can skip this chapter and won't miss much of the story.**

Sansa didn't let go of his hand the whole way back to their room. When they finally reached it she sat him in a chair and moved to her pack, rummaging around for her sewing kit.

"What you doin' girl?"

"You're bleeding through your tunic," she said simply. "So stupid, I should have stitched you before you did all that work."

"I'll live, little bird." She finally found it and moved to kneel next to him. She gave him an apologetic smile before she lifted his shirt and began to work. She struggled to keep her hands steady as she thought about what she was going to tell him. She was nervous about his reaction, but even more nervous about not being able to get through it.

She actively tried not to think about what happened to her. Sansa focused on the positive things that had come from it, lest she drown in her own sorrow. Could she really go back to that awful day? Afterwards, she'd spent 2 days in bed in complete silence before Sandor took her. What would happen to her now?

She wanted him to know her, more than he did even now. The sad fact was that her own family, the people that knew her best, would probably not even recognize her after everything that had happened. She didn't even know if she would belong with them anymore, she was so altered. They probably assumed she was dead, anyway. And she wanted someone to know her. She wanted _Sandor _to know her.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by Sandor's pained grunt. She looked up quickly, muttering "sorry," before tying off the stitches; she was finished anyway. He replaced his tunic and took her hands in his, rubbing slow circles.

"You said you had a story for me," he said in a soft voice. She nodded and stood up, pacing the room and looking at the floor trying to find the courage. Finally, she sat on the edge of their bed and began.

"Joffrey found out about Stannis' impending attack 5 days prior…you were there when he did." Sansa remembered the beating she'd gotten, as though she had been the one to sail the ships towards King's Landing.

"Then he sent you away, and I didn't know why. All I knew was that you were gone and I felt so…so alone." She still couldn't look at him

"Sansa…" Sandor began, but she looked up and held up her hand.

"I can't get through this if you're going to talk…just…just let me get through this." He shut his mouth and nodded. "The day after that he sent for me. I didn't think…. I didn't think it would be much worse than before, so I just hurried and went." How stupid and naïve she still was just hours before.

"It was to introduce me to your brother. He'd just arrived to assist in the battle. Joffrey just kept asking me what I thought of him as a warrior, how fearful Stannis' army would be, and finally I just said 'your grace will need all the fighters he can get.'" Sansa shook her head at the memory, at her own stupidity. "I know I shouldn't have, I wasn't even really thinking, I was just so tired of listening to all his prattling on about the battle."

She got quiet then, willing her mouth to continue telling it. _You know what happens next._ "He got so angry, he had Meryn and Boros beat me together. Oddly enough that wasn't much worse than just one. You get numb to them after awhile. Finally he turned to Gregor and asked him to 'take part in a kingsguard tradition.'" Sandor was gripping his chair so hard you could hear the creaking in the wood, but thankfully he remained silent. Any interruption and she would lose her nerve.

"The first blow was to the eye, before Joffrey told him that they 'leave my face alone' and the next few were to the ribs. You can't…numb yourself to those. They were so hard. I was strangely grateful that Joffrey never asked you to hit me." She chuckled darkly to herself. _Ah, small favors. _

"Finally he told him to take me away, and Gregor asked what to do with me. 'I don't know, rape her for all I care.'" Sansa was getting choked up now. At this point she was still pure, still naïve, and still a stupid little bird.

"But I didn't think he would. Nobody ever took that command seriously. So I just followed him when he led me away. When we reached the stairwell, he went down instead of up to my room. I was confused, but I followed for a short while. I tried to tell him we shouldn't be there, but he grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let go."

Tears were openly streaming down her face now, but she almost couldn't stop. "I tried pulling away, but he just…smiled this awful smile as me and whispered 'you're going to scream for me, girl.'"

"I started fighting then, I swear I fought, calling for help, but he hit me in the face again, left a huge scratch, and just dragged me harder. When we reached a cell, I kept calling for help, but the only thing I could hear was my own echo. He threw me onto the floor and held me there with his knee. That hurt even worse than the blows." Sansa shuddered at that memory, rubbing her chest where she'd been bruised. She was sobbing, and couldn't imagine continuing. She chanced to look up at Sandor, and saw her own anger and despair reflected there, deep and dark.

"He tore my dress and…ran his hands all over me. Every part. I stopped calling for help I…I didn't want to give him any satisfaction. But I kept struggling, so he hit me again. But I still didn't scream. I still didn't think he would actually do it. But he started taking off…well, I knew he was going to." Sandor got up now and started walking around the room, trying to control himself. He wanted to hit something, she could tell, but she kept going.

"And no one was going to help me. I knew you were gone. You would have stopped him." He spun around and looked at her, the look crossing his face now being one of guilt and sorrow. He slowly approached her and sat next to her on the bed, holding her hand. That simple gesture gave her the strength to tell him the hardest part. She said it so quietly he could barely hear her.

"I still didn't want to scream, I wanted to be strong enough, but…but I screamed. The second he did it I screamed. He liked that for a while, but then he put his hands around my throat and choked me to shut me up. I hoped he would kill me; I wanted to die so badly. When he was done he…kissed my cheek and just left me on the floor." Sansa took a deep breath. She told him, she got through it. She tried to look at him, but he was staring away from her. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe this was too much for him to handle after the day they had. She hadn't wanted to be a heavier burden on him; she just wanted to be free.

She started to cry again before he squeezed her hand and said, "what then?"

"I don't know how long I laid there. I know I threw up on the floor, but I don't really remember putting my torn dress back on or going up to my room. The maester came and examined me, but I wouldn't let him…look down there. He asked, but…I didn't answer. Shae asked too, but I didn't say anything. I think it was her that got everyone to leave me alone. The next thing I remember was you coming into my room."

It was Sandor's turned to breath a huge breath out. Instead of raging like she knew he wanted to, he turned towards her and gathered her into his arms. She sobbed openly into his chest, murmuring, "I'm so stupid." And she did feel stupid; for following Gregor, for mouthing off to Joffrey, for even wanting to go to that awful place at all, for ever thinking that was the life she wanted. She felt as stupid and ashamed as she did the night it happened. But he was here now, and he could protect her now.

He sat there rocking her and murmuring back to her, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault." He would say it until she believed it.


	23. Chapter 23

**Wow you guys, thank you for so much support after that last chapter—not only for the family issues, which yes, have resolved, but for loving the chapter which ****_was _****incredibly difficult to write, I can only hope to do Sansa justice. **

**This one is for mountaingem, and she knows why : )**

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They lay there asleep, exhausted after what had happened. Sandor was awakened by the knock on the door of their room. He detangled himself from Sansa and went to open it. The innkeeper stood there looking very angry.

"You got the coin for last night?" He grumbled at him. Sandor rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and went to the sack he'd thrown across the room the night before, the sack Sansa hadn't taken. He dug around and shoved the money in the man's hand. "For tonight as well," he growled out before shutting the door in the man's face. When he turned back to his bed, Sansa was still peacefully asleep. She was so exhausted she hadn't uttered one peep of a dream, at least not one loud enough to wake him.

He crept back and quietly slid in next to her. He just laid there admiring her beauty and grace, even in sleep. He reached out a hand to brush hair out of her face, and he could have sworn she smiled and sighed to herself. Could he really do it? Could he really give her the 'right' life that she wanted so badly? Hell, he wanted it too, he could admit that now.

It was strange, being relatively safe. When the innkeeper had knocked he'd wanted to reach for his sword before remembering Gregor was dead. He was the only one that had even come across them in the 6 months they'd been running. For all intents and purposes, they were safe. They could do what they wanted now. _And she wants you._

She said she loved him, but could that really be in the same desperate, all-consuming way he loved her? He would gladly walk though fire for them. _Isn't that the same thing as going back to Gregor? _What was she thinking? Going back to Gregor to protect him? He wasn't worth it.

The bitter part of him knew that one day she would realize that, she would figure out that he was in no way worthy of her. He knew that one day he would have to slink away with a broken heart and know that she'd found the person she was supposed to be with. Would he be able to handle that, as long as he knew she was happy?

The foolish, boyish part actually thought he could. She said she not only loved him, but that she loved who she _was _when she was with him. The same went for her—she made him into a better man. She made him into a man who gushed about his wife to total strangers and helped old men out simply because they needed it. She made him into a man who wanted to smile, and then gave him a reason to.

It was this part of him that reached out a hand to touch her belly. Without even thinking on it, he started to tell a story.

"I don't remember my mother being pregnant with my sister, or when she was born. But she was the sweetest girl who ever lived." He was startled when he felt the thumping under his hand, but continued. "She loved running around outside without shoes on and bringing flowers home. The braided them into bracelets and wore them until they wilted." He felt the baby turn under his hand, as though getting comfortable and listening to the story.

"After Gregor burned me, she changed my bandages and told me stories. And there were always fresh flowers by my bed. You'll be sweet like her, despite the family." He hastily removed his hand when he felt Sansa's hand in his hair. He looked up to see her sleepily smiling at him.

"Keep going," she yawned. He was suddenly very embarrassed.

"We should be getting up."

"No," she said pulling on his arm, "just stay here a little while longer." Once again not able to deny her anything, Sandor laid down again and pulled her into his arms. She nestled her head into his shoulder and asked, "what happened to her?"

"She went into the woods one day and didn't come out," he said simply. Sansa squeezed his hand and cuddled in even farther.

"Was her name Sara?"

"Yea, how'd you know that?"

"I named you Jon after my brother, I figured you did the same after I heard you talk about her."

"Jon's the bastard brother, right?" When she nodded he continued, "huh. I'd have figured you'd pick Robb or Ned or even Bran." She shook her head and sighed.

"I wasn't as kind to Jon as I should have been. I never thought it was 'proper' to have my father's bastard in the house. I didn't even think of him as my brother for a while. But he was a good man, and was good to me." She paused and sighed again, "Mother and I should have treated him far better. I didn't even realize that until he was gone," she said sadly. Sandor squeezed her a little tighter, putting his hand on her belly again.

He would not treat that little girl as anything but the angel she was. Fuck, he would make lemoncakes with her if she asked. He would be her father in every way that mattered. No, he would not be able to let Sansa and their daughter go. Not when they were going to be the family he so desperately wanted.

If he was going to be with her, he better make damn sure he could be the man they both deserved.

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**I'm having a poll/brainstorming session: what should happen next?**


	24. Chapter 24

**This one is for I am cari, whose faith in me is overwhelming and wonderful. I only hope I can be the writer you described. **

**Also, dear readers! The long absence is due to the fact that I have been planning and planning and planning the rest of this story. Yes, we are in the home stretch, yes I know what's going to happen. NO! You're not getting any more than that ; ) I hope I haven't waited too long that you're all bored with me**

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When Sansa woke again, she could hear Sandor snoring softly into her hair. She fought the urge to giggle at the noise. She was so exhausted from the previous days events she wanted to just keep sleeping in his arms, but when she looked at the window she saw that it was nearly dusk. She gently shook Sandor awake.

"Sandor? Its nearly nightfall."

"So?" came his groggy reply as he pulled her back into his arms.

"Won't our host be angry for not paying?"

Sandor buried his face in her hair and grumbled, "paid him for two more nights." Sansa relaxed back into him and sighed. She was fully awake now, and aware of the discomfort in her back and side. When she stretched, Sandor reached a hand to her back and rubbed slow, soothing circles.

Sansa groaned and felt him stiffen behind her at the sound. She smiled again as he put his arm around her middle and pulled her into him, rather than shy away from his want of her. She covered his hand with her own, and could feel the baby's powerful kicks herself. She giggled at the strength she possessed already.

"Have you given any thought to what to name her?" Sansa asked him over her shoulder. His hand stopped rubbing her belly as he shrugged.

"Not really." _Of course you silly girl. Sandor woudn't sit there daydreaming about names like you do._

"There are quite a few names in my family, but I was thinking…Sarah," she said shyly. He unexpectedly stiffened and pulled his hand away to lie on his back.

"Don't do that little bird." He said in a soft voice.

Sansa froze. Could she have been completely mistaken? Was she really such a silly girl that she could have mistook that lustful look in his eyes for love? He had saved her from Gregor, at great personal risk, but that could merely confirm that he had more honor than he ever gave himself credit for.

Again, she'd created a silly fantasy in her head, one where they were a happy family. But perhaps it was just that, a fantasy. Sandor had given no indication that he desired that kind of life with her and her child.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I was just getting caught up in my silly fantasies again," she said trying to keep tears from her eyes. Sandor was hardly the kind of man that dreamed about children and families. Perhaps it was merely _her_ that he wanted, not her child at all. Her heart sank even further at that thought. She could not live with a man who didn't love her child, no matter how much she may want him. '

The tears were falling down her face now, thankfully hidden from Sandor's view. She quickly got out of bed and went to change her clothing, keeping her face turned away. She stopped as she heard him come out of bed and walk up behind her.

What's wrong?" He asked, not touching her. She quickly wiped her face and put a false smile on before she turned towards him.

"Nothing," she said as the ache in her chest got bigger. "Just getting caught up in my fairy stories again."

"What you talking about, girl?"

"Its so silly of me," she said with the fake smile getting harder and harder to hold, "I've never actually asked you…what…you wanted," she finally managed to get out.

"What I wanted?"

She didn't want to reply. She wanted to hang onto her girlish notions longer. But the baby gave another kick and she knew she couldn't do that. The smile had finally fallen as she went to sit on the bed, looking down at her hands.

"Here I am spewing all these declarations of love and…" she couldn't finish.

He came to kneel in front of her, reaching a hand up to touch hers. "And I never said it back." Damn him and his way of reading her so completely. She chanced a look up at him, but couldn't make out what she saw there. She bit her lip in anticipation and he shook his head and looked down. Another little part of her heart died.

"Its dangerous, loving you." The guilt hit her; Gregor could so easily have killed him, and almost did. She looked up when he continued, "but I've been yours since you first used that smart mouth on the way to King's Landing." Sansa could hardly believe it; he'd loved her that long? On the other hand it made sense: his distaste for her beatings, him trying to acclimate her to life in King's Landing, his small acts of kindness that were the only thing he was able to do there. It was selfish, really, to ask for more, but she had to.

"And the baby?" she asked quietly, reaching for her belly again. He looked at her completely puzzled

"I sorta thought the two of you were a package deal." He said with a chuckle.

"We are," she said shakily, "that's why…"

He gave her another confused look before realization dawned on his face and he smiled. "You think I would sit there talking to a kid I don't want?"

A real smile graced her features as she stood up and flung her arms around him. It was an awkward hug, as his head only came up to her huge stomach, but it only took a few moments before he stood and hugged her back. She could hardly believe her luck, or the fact that something was finally going right in her life. But she remembered his words and pulled back to look at him.

"Then what's wrong with Sarah?"

His arms left her and he looked away from her. She waited patiently while he walked away and sat on a chair in the corner, still looking at anything but her. Her joy was dimming the longer he sat there in silence—what could he possibly have to tell her?

"I'm not a proper father, Sansa."

"Sandor…" she started to say before he held up a hand to stop her.

"Someday you're going to realize that. Or your brother will, or your mother, or someone else. Or you'll find someone who is good enough for you, who actually could be a good father to her," he said as he looked up at her.

"I'm a mistake, and you'll realize it, and leave. Then you'll have this kid with my sister's name and you'll constantly be reminded of me." He looked down at the ground again.

"It's just better if you name her after someone in your family and…when you do leave…you'll never have to think of me."

She didn't know how to respond to that. Was he really never going to believe her? Did he really think so little of her to believe her that fickle? _Of course he does, you fell in love with more knights than you can count in King's Landing. _She approached him slowly.

"Would you think of me?" she asked him as he looked up at her. "Would you think of me if I left you and never returned?" His jaw tightened, as if he were holding in his words. Finally he choked out

"Every minute."

With great difficulty, she knelt in front of him to look him in the eye, which had drifted down to the floor again.

"Then why do you think it's so different for me?"

He snorted. "Have you seen yourself? Everyone alive knows you don't belong with someone like me."

"Do _you_ see me?" she said a little bit louder, standing up and gesturing to her body. She was getting frustrated and angry now. Why couldn't he just see that he was exactly what she needed? "I need someone who's rough" she said touching the scarred part of his face, "and course" she said bringing her hand up the other side of his neck, "and honest" she said tilting his head up to look at her. His breath was a little more ragged now, and his fists were clenched at his side. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was angry. But she knew that look very, very well. Would this work?_ You've slept with the man, for gods sake. No use being shy now. _

"Plus," she said in a low, husky voice as she pressed herself further into him, "I don't think you could let me go if you tried."

He lurched forward and captured her lips again in a searing kiss that made her simultaneously go weak and clutch him tighter to her than she thought she was able. She smiled brightly into their kiss. When she was right, she was right.

He pulled back slightly, letting her down to her feet. She was so lost in the kiss she hadn't even realized he picked her up. He ran a gentle hand through her hair and whispered, "what about Catelyn?"

He looked almost nervous at the suggestion, as though he thought she would reject it. But it could not have been more perfect.

"Alright," she said with a smile, "Catelyn Sarah Clegane."

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**So I had a really good question about where we are in regards to canon. I looked back in the book and it is actually ridiculously hard to figure out when things take place! *Spoiler Alert!*** **Robb needs to be alive for my story, so I'm not going to kill him like in the books. The way I see it, we're right before Joffrey dying. **

**I've also been writing like a madwoman, so expect the next update soon!**


	25. Chapter 25

**I have no idea if she's gotten a dedication yet, and I don't have the energy to go back and check. But mountaingem put a little bit of my story into her _fabulous_ one, so she totally deserves it here. I'm so incredibly flattered and grateful for not only mountain gem, but all of you for thinking my story is actually worth something. **

**Also, I realize Sansa probably wouldn't swear...but she's been with Sandor for so long and is 7 months pregnant, something is bound to slip out! Plus I just love the image :)**

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"Oh bugger that! It's been almost 7 months. If he hasn't found us by now, he won't"

Such a huge fucking argument over staying at an inn that evening, but Sandor couldn't help but chuckle at the mouth on his girl. He'd clearly been a bad influence on her. And he would be lying if he said her swearing at him didn't make his cock twitch a little bit.

They hadn't done anything physical in the last month—well, not sexual, anyway. He held her close at night, and put a hand on her belly whenever Catelyn was kicking. And she'd taken to doing odd little things like holding his hand and stroking his face. She also had the tendency to get a little…violent…when her pregnancy moods got the better of her. Rather than be put off by it, it struck him as funny and a step in the right direction—she wasn't hiding how she was feeling. And she explained to him in a moment of sanity that she would not be herself sometimes. So he generally just laughed through them and tried to dodge the occasional object she threw in his direction.

"Are you _laughing_ at me?" she hissed at him while narrowing her eyes. Oh yes, better stay clear of her right now.

"Just admiring that mouth ya got," he drawled back. She froze where she was, her expression still murderous, before cracking a smile and chuckling as well. Sandor laughed along with her, but breathed a sigh of relief. The majority of the time he could make her smile, but there were those times that he said the absolutely wrong thing, and that's when he usually ended up with a scratch or two.

Strangely, she hadn't had many of her sexual moods lately. His own desire hadn't diminished a bit, and he couldn't quite silence that voice in his head that said _she never really wanted you that way. _But at the same time, he wanted her to be absolutely sure. So he stifled his groans and hid his evident arousal around her. _Be the man she deserves. _Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Sandor?" She said. Damnit, even saying his name brought him back to the night when she'd moaned it as she came…

"I realize I was being a little…abnormal before," _crazy _he thought to himself, "but really, its been so long. Could Joffrey really still be looking for us? If he ever was at all?" Sandor sighed to himself. He wanted nothing more than to give her a simple, safe life. But the facts remained.

"Little bastard was a little too much like my brother, Sansa. I took something that belonged to him." She tensed and looked crestfallen at the mention of Gregor. "I reckon he'll be wanting his things back, outta spite more than anything else."

Her shoulders fell, accepting what he was saying.

"But there's another town not too far off. One night couldn't kill us." It made him uneasy, as he remembered what happened the last time he put his guard down. But she was just so fucking tired all the time, and he was so weak when she looked at him like that…

They rode in relative silence until they reached the place, only stopping when Sansa had to stretch. Like it or not, pretty soon she wouldn't be able to ride anywhere. He had to figure out what to do then.

The tiny town looked deserted, save for the small rustlings behind the houses that proved folks were home. Maybe one night was all they would want in a place like this. He noticed pieces of parchment hanging from most of the buildings, that being the only other movement he could see. He carefully got off of Stranger and approached one of the signs. When he read the words on them, his heart stopped in his chest:

"King Joffrey murdered by his uncle, the Imp! Long live King Tommen!"

He didn't bother to read the rest—that headline was all he needed to know. He was in such shock that he didn't notice the little bird come up behind him until her hand was on his shoulder.

* * *

"What is it?" she asked almost fearing the answer. He had gone so tense as he read the sign…

He shrugged and gestured towards the door, "see for yourself."

As she read the words, her own heart stopped as well. She couldn't even place the myriad of emotions racing through her, but she knew what she felt when they finally settled.

"I'm free," she whispered with a smile grazing her features. She laughed out loud, "I'm free!" She was broken out of her revelry by a strong hand on her upper arm yanking her around.

"Are you mad, girl?"

"Sandor, don't you see? He's gone, we don't have to hide anymore. Tommen is King now!" His expression didn't waver; what on earth was _wrong _with him?

"_Cersei_ is as good as King now. And she'll be in no hurry to do you any favors." Sansa's heart sank again. They were never going to be safe, were they? They would constantly be running as long as the Lannister's held sway at court. Try as she might, she couldn't find a way to escape the games at King's Landing.

Seemingly noticing her fallen expression, Sandor awkwardly let go and rubbed her shoulder.

"Let see if they have a place for us to stay, Little Bird."

Sansa barely noticed where he was leading her, she was so lost in her own thoughts. More than ever, she was determined to have the life she wanted. If not that than at least to keep them safe. If the chill in the air was anything to go by, they were far, far North of King's Landing by now. _And no closer to safety than you were 7 months ago. _Where could they possibly go to have any sort of life together.

The answer struck her so suddenly, and was so obvious, she was shocked she didn't realize it before. But would Sandor go along with it? On the one hand, he would do absolutely anything for her, of that she was quite certain. But on the other, he seemed perfectly content to keep her to himself, as was she. There was no guarantee that they wouldn't both be thrust back into the game they both despised. But logically, she had to admit it was the safest option, and her safety would outweigh any other doubts Sandor had.

She waited until they reached their room before she opened her mouth.

"I know what we should do."

* * *

He wasn't even sure she was still able to speak, she'd been quiet for so long. Hence his shock when she uttered those words after so long.

Shaking his head clear, he replied "about what?"

"I know where we should go, I mean." Well, this was the first time she'd offered up a suggestion. He merely gestured for her to continue.

"I think we should find my brother." Sandor froze, trying to quiet that annoying, taunting voice that was now saying _See? She wants to be rid of you. Her brother's sure to do that for her. _This was the greatest threat to his fragile relationship with her. _If you can call it that._

"That's not the best…"

"Oh would you just let me finish!" she growled at him. Ah, he was wondering when her temper would reappear. She seemed to get a hold of herself as she continued.

"We're never going to be safe, not as long as Lannisters sit on the Iron Throne and we're on the run from them. We can't even stay in a village for longer than a few days. Within the month I'm not going to be able to ride at all, and I would rather be somewhere I feel safe resting my head than in a forest with only you to deliver her."

"And you think you'll be safe there?"

"As safe as I'll be anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms" she replied as snarkily as he had asked the question. Didn't she think he could keep her safe anymore? Did she trust her damn brother more than him? His expression must betrayed the hurt he felt, since her's softened as she reached up to touch his face.

"You can't hold off an entire army, not alone," she said as she reached up to stroke his face. "We'll be safest fighting with Robb." He had to admit the logic there, but how did he go about explaining his real fear?

"What is it?" she whispered up to his face.

He took a deep breath trying to gather his thoughts and explain to her. But how do you tell a girl that her brother stood to destroy the only happiness he'd ever wanted?

"What about the baby?"

Sansa's ministrations stopped as she looked up at him. "What about her? As far as my family knows I'm having my husband's child." Sandor looked at her in surprise. Did she really mean to introduce him as her husband? Even to her family? She chuckled at his expression. "What did you think I was going to tell them?"

He shrugged, trying not to look her in the face. That she was willing to be his wife in front of her family made his heart swell in emotion his barely understood. For once, he felt wanted, and that tormenting voice was miraculously silent. He managed a small laugh back at her.

"They're not going to be too pleased," he said as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"They don't really have much choice, do they?"

"He's the King of the North, Sansa," Sandor said pulling back to look at her. "He can annul any marriage he wants, even one with a child."

"I know that, Sandor. But I know my brother too. I have to believe it'll be alright."

Perhaps she could believe enough for the both of them.


	26. Chapter 26

**This one is for Kenku212-I hope this is a fast enough update to satisfy!**

**Also thank you everyone for your thoughts on Robb! You'll just have to see if you were right in a couple of chapters :)**

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Sandor paced back and forth in their room waiting for Sansa to return from the washroom at their latest inn. Since they'd decided 2 weeks ago to find Robb they'd ridden at a harder pace than was probably good for her, but they were working on a clock here. A month before the baby came she wouldn't be able to ride. Hell, she wouldn't do much of anything, if what she'd told him was right. Did they really just stay in the same room for a _month_?

He knew they wouldn't make it all the way to Winterfell, and her brother wasn't there anyway. Sandor knew he would have left Riverrun and gone out to fight his war by now But their haste wasn't what had Sandor so nervous. He thought about what had happened that day in the village…

"**Where are you going?" she'd sleepily asked him as he pulled on his sword and grabbed for his bulging sack of coins he'd saved over the last months. **

"**Just getting some supplies for the rest of our journey, Little Bird." She sat up in interest.**

"**Are we close?" she said, unable to hide her excitement at seeing her family again. **

"**No more than a fortnight," he said trying to hide his growing dread at the prospect of meeting her family. He focused instead on his plan for the day, though he had no idea how she would react. **

"**I'll be back soon. Go back to bed, we'll pack up your things when I return." She smiled at him, clearly still exhausted, and reclined back on the bed. She was already breathing deeply when he left the room and locked it behind him. **

**He searched the village for the store he'd spotted when they came here last week. He'd chosen a larger town because they were more likely to have a store like this, although they ran the risk of being recognized. It was for this reason that he pulled his cloak closer to his face and made his way to the store. The light snow that had started to fall stopped townsfolk from looking at him—they were as eager to reach their destinations as he was. **

**When he came into the store and lowered his hood, the merchant's face went pale. _Probably shouldn't have scared him so much last time. _**

"**You got what I ordered?"**

"**Of…of course ser" he stuttered in return. He retreated into the back for a moment before coming back with a small package in hand. **

"**Do you have the fee we discussed, ser?"**

"**Not without seeing the work, first," he said roughly. The man's hand was shaking as he reached out. Better to have the man fear him…stopped people from talking. He didn't let any emotion cross his face as he examined it. **

"**That'll do." He said as he threw the bag of coins at him and pulled his cloak back over his face to go home. **

He'd gotten food and other things they would need after his first errand. So Sansa didn't notice the small package among the larger ones. She'd gotten out of bed, asking for another backrub before hurrying to the washroom to clean herself and dress for the coming journey. She had more energy than he'd seen from her in weeks, her excitement was running through her very veins.

When she left, he gotten the ring out of the package and started to pace, awaiting her return. He didn't know why he was so nervous. They'd admitted their love, made plans for the future. Hell, they'd even named their daughter. So why was he so damn nervous about asking her the question they'd already all but decided?

_Because you've been planning a lie. This will make it real. _That was the truth of it. He was striving to be a man she deserved, a man that Robb Stark would actually welcome as part of his family, no matter how unlikely that possibility was.

But more than that, Sansa _deserved_ this. How strange, that he'd been trying to stamp the love of fairy tales out of her, and now he was striving to put them back in. She deserved a moment of pure happiness, and more than anything he wanted to give that to her. He just couldn't help but shake the feeling that she would say no.

He was so lost in his worry that he didn't even hear her come in. When she shut the door behind her, he was so startled he ran into and almost toppled a chair. She wistful smile fell from her face as she took in his expression.

"Sandor what's wrong?" she said rushing over to him. "Did you hear something? Did something happen?" He shook his head, his voice suddenly unable to produce words. And why were his hands so fucking sweaty? He wiped them on his shirt before taking her own perfect, tiny hand and leading her to the bed.

"What on earth is going on? You're scaring me, Sandor." She sat down and looked up at him, her face a mixture of fear and confusion. "Do you have something to tell me?" she asked after a long pause.

Damnit, why couldn't he say anything to ease her fear? He could only nod in response to her question. She relaxed only slightly, still anticipating what he was going to say.

Still unable to speak, he simply went to one knee in front of her, and took one of her hands in his. He looked up into her beautiful, perfect eyes and still couldn't find the words to express himself. _I'll love you for every second of every day. I'll protect you and our children with everything that I have, because you make me into the kind of man that deserves you. _But none of that came out of his mouth.

"What are you doing?" she asked him in a small voice. Instead of answering, he reached into the pouch where he kept her ring and pulled it out, holding it in front of her face while he kept his eyes on the floor. He couldn't look at her as she gasped, then took the ring from his hand. It was made out of delicate silver curved around itself with small pieces of shiny, shaped dragon glass along the band. He gotten the glass from his own dagger, and planned the ring with that damn merchant down to the last detail. Her surname was etched along the inside of the band. He was suddenly incredibly fearful that she wouldn't like it, that it wasn't good enough for someone like her.

"Sandor…" he chanced a look up at her and saw the tears filling her eyes. He couldn't read her expression though—were those tears of sadness, of disappointment? Or of joy and excitement? She held a hand over her mouth as she continued to stare at the ring.

"Marry me," he rasped in a low, hoarse voice. Time seemed to stop as she stared into his eyes, again her face betraying nothing of what she was feeling. This was _not _going as he'd planned. _You couldn't just tell her all those damn love poems in you head, could you?_ This wasn't the proposal she deserved, but the longer the silence dragged on the more he worried that she was going to turn him down, or worse, laugh at him.

She didn't say anything as she got up and leaned forward, hunching over with great difficulty to press her sweet mouth against his. She tasted even better than he remembered, and he stayed on his knees simply worshipping her. When she broke away and stood up fully, she was smiling and openly crying. Her hand shook as she placed his ring on her finger. _She's really mine._ He reached out his arms and drew her to him, his face only coming up to her stomach. He placed another lingering kiss on her belly, right above where he could feel his daughter kick.

_They're both really mine._

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**I have no idea of proposals are like in westoros. This scene was too good to pass up, so I'm going to assume they're like this!**

**This was going to go a lot…um…further…but my goodness I am wordy! So look forward to the next chapter all you lemon-lovers out there : )**


	27. Chapter 27

**So don't you just LOVE it when your head feels so awful you think it's going to pop every time you look at a computer screen? Yea, that's been me the last week or so. Great times all around. Sorry about the delay, but hopefully the chapter will make up for it : )**

Sansa could barely see him on his knees in front of her through all her tears, but she felt his hands on either side of her hips and his lips pretty into her stomach. Catelyn was kicking so hard she was surprised his head didn't bounce back. She heard him murmur something that sounded vaguely close to "mine."

She reached down both her arms to hug him back. They stayed like that for several minutes, her wondering how Sandor had managed to pull off such a proposal. She wondered at him even finding it necessary—they'd already decided how their lives were going to be together. But that was decidedly…unromantic. She didn't realize until Sandor got on his knee how badly she wanted this too—this moment that was just for them. Not because she was pregnant and needed the protection, or because they were putting up a front for her brother, but because they _wanted _to marry each other.

Of course, it didn't hurt that they wouldn't be lying _too _much to Robb now—Sandor was Catelyn's father in every way that mattered, and he was going to be her husband now as well. She wished there was something she could give him in return that even came close to being as beautiful and romantic as this ring. As she knelt down to kiss him properly, she knew there was.

When their lips met again, Sansa moaned at the feeling. She would never get tired of feeling the scratchy, coarse side of his mouth that didn't move quite the same as the smooth, unscarred side. She always wanted to giggle at the representation of both sides of his personality put together into one kiss, one man. She put her hands on the back of his head and pulled him closer to her, opening her mouth to allow him access.

He didn't hesitate in plunging his tongue into her mouth. It was like he was claiming every part of her—"_mine" indeed _she thought as she smiled into the kiss. She felt him smile back as he gripped her tighter, standing them both up so he towered over her and took even more control over their kiss.

She wanted more of him. To be honest she'd wanted him since the night they'd shared over a month ago, but she'd held back since then. Not only because of what had happened immediately afterward, but because of the look in his face when she told him she was leaving. He was devastated, yes, but there was also something else. Something that told her he saw it coming. He _expected _her to leave him. And she didn't want to convince him by making love to him, no matter how much her heart skipped whenever he pulled her close. He needed to believe that she wouldn't leave.

And judging by his proposal, he believed her now. At the very least, he thought of her as his, which was all she had wanted for quite some time. She wanted to belong to only him. So when she reached behind her to unlace her dress, instead of stopping her he spun her around to assist. His large fingers tickled her as he unlaced it, following all the way down her back until the dress pooled at her feet. Before she could step out of it, he had lifted her off her feet and walked over to place her on the bed.

When he stepped back to remove his shirt, she sat up on her elbows to watch him in the light. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he pulled it off, and she shuddered at the appearance of the chest she loved so much. She could see all those scars clearly now, shifting under the rippling muscles made strong from riding and fighting. She could feel herself growing wet and impatient, and he cracked a smile when she shifted to try to add some friction in between her legs. She could stand it even less now when he had some private joke at her expense, so the second he had removed his bottoms she reached forward and yanked him onto the bed next to her.

He wasted no time in plunging his tongue back into her mouth, however awkward it was to be leaning over her huge belly to kiss her. He didn't seem to mind, and neither did she. She reached her hands into his hair again and admired the way her ring shined in the darkness of his locks.

Suddenly Sandor stopped kissing her to lean back on his knees. Sansa whimpered at the loss and leaned forward to bring him back, but he had already reached down to pull off her shift and small clothes. She shivered as she sat bare before him, not out of nerves but excitement. She fought the urge to cover herself as he sat there frozen, appraising her. When he came towards her again, he looked almost like a hunter closing in on its prey. She grew even wetter at the thought of him claiming her again, and let out tiny gasps when she felt his hot mouths planting kisses all over her, marking every part of her as his.

"Turn on your side," he said in a low growl of a voice. Sansa felt tingles in the tips of her toes at that voice and did as she was told, laying on her most comfortable side. She felt his fingers run along her hip, tracing patterns as he moved higher to the side of her breast. He leaned forward from behind her and placed a long, lingering kiss there too, murmuring "beautiful" as he did so.

Sansa had no wish to stop her moans at his delicious torture. She had never wanted something so bad in her entire life, and her entire body was aching for it. She whimpered again when he pulled away, but she turned to see him removing his own small clothes. When his cock sprang forward, her eyes widened and she gasped. How on earth had that ever fit in her? She didn't get a good look at it the last time, but she was struck with the urge to explore it in every way possible. Her fingers barely grazed it when he grabbed her wrist and bit down hard on his lip, breathing hard.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked in a panic.

"Gods, no!" he chortled back at her. "You want this to last, don't you?" She pouted at not being able to do what she wanted, so he leaned forward and growled in her ear, "some day soon, you can stroke my cock all you want, Little Bird." She knew she should have been appalled at his filthy words, but once again they only seemed to spur her on. He certainly knew exactly how to get her going. She grasped for him again, but he held her wrists firmly and said lowly, "go back to the way you were."

She reluctantly did as she was told, hating that she couldn't see him but greatly anticipating what he would do next. She felt the bed dip as he got in behind her, but the first thing she felt on her was his arms reach around to stroke her in between the legs. She let out a groan that was almost a scream and he rubbed that spot above her opening, and barely let his other fingers enter her. She grabbed at his arm in an attempt to _make _him go in farther, but he steadfastly teased her opening, and her.

"Sandor…Sandor please," she turned and begged him. He didn't say a word as he pulled his hand back, just reached in between from behind, lifted her leg a little, and plunged in again.

Gods, he was so _big. _Rather than hurt, she felt full and complete, and _finally _could let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. This just felt _right. _He stayed buried in her, and she could feel him slightly shake as he put her leg down and reached his arm around her to press her back into his front. She joined his hand with her own and stayed there with him, not moving.

They had all the time in the world.

Sandor reached up the hand that was holding hers to look at her ring. At the sight, he finally began to move. All the shivers running through her body before now turned into slow fire, spreading out from where Sandor thrusted into her, spreading out via his hands that were now running over her thighs, belly, and breasts. With _incredible_ difficulty, Sansa arched her back and twisted around to kiss him.

Sandor thrusted deeply into her at that. He didn't seem to mind that she could only really reach the burned side of his mouth, only that she was finally kissing him while he made love to her. It spurned his hips faster and faster as she included her tongue, driving it into his mouth as he was driving into her. He gripped her hip almost painfully as he rode her faster, and Sansa moaned into his mouth as the fire grew in every part of her body.

She screamed out when the fire exploded from her center, shooting tingles out to every part of her body and blurring her vision beyond recognition. Sandor drove in for a few more strokes before growling out her name and shaking as he spent himself inside her.

He didn't let go of her as they lay there gasping for breath, if anything he squeezed her even tighter and whispered in her ear, "I love you."

It was so quiet she barely heard him, but tears streamed down her face at his words. She felt him tense, and hurriedly asked, "are you alright, Little Bird?"

"Of course, of course," she said quickly wiping her face. She turned towards him and slowly pressed her lips into his again to reassure him. Truthfully, she had no idea why the tears came so easily to her after finally hearing him say those simple words. When she pulled away she whispered back,

"I just love you too."


	28. Chapter 28

**Oh my god! Some force out there doesn't want me to finish this story (don't know if that's a good thing or not, I do want to make it last as long as possible) and tells 2 year olds to beat my computer against the floor…awesome. **

**I also completely forgot the dedication for last chapter, so again we will have a double one. Penelope's-peas, because I totally "go to the bathroom" at work to write "just one more paragraph," and a Guest reviewer who took a chance on a story they weren't too sure about, and it ended up paying off. This is for you guys.**

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"Time to go, Little Bird," Sandor rasped, gently shaking her awake.

Today was the day. They'd spent the last few week heading for Riverrun, pushing the limits of Sansa's ability to ride. Sandor was somewhat grateful when they'd caught sight of the camp yesterday—the young wolf-king was there. He'd heard rumblings of Robb Stark's snubbing the Frey girl and marrying another. He could only hope that he would be sympathetic to their marriage, and his presence would be something of a blessing.

But that was the absolute best they could hope for. He was well aware that Lady Stark would not look on her daughter's choice favorably. Hell, in a normal world, highborn ladies didn't look at him at all. He remembered how Catelyn Stark's manners had prevented open revulsion at his face, but didn't grant him any acknowledgment. She, like every member of Sansa's family, had looked right through the hulking bodyguard.

There was also the matter of how to get in. It was well known that he was a Lannister dog. Even with the king's sister at his side, he would not be well received. He especially could not protect Sansa and the baby with the fierce brutality he desired, not if he wanted to be accepted.

To be honest, he didn't truly have a plan, other than to get Sansa to her brother as soon as possible, and hope he could stay at her side. It was taking everything he had to be hopeful, for their sake. And as she excitedly put her things away and readied to leave, he couldn't help the growing pit of dread—would Sansa still want him for a husband at the end of the day?

She seemed to sense his discomfort, because she stopped was she was doing and came over to him. He hadn't really moved, or even looked at her directly since he'd woken her. She pressed one tender hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to rest her forehead against his.

"It'll be alright," she whispered to him.

"You don't know that, Little Bird."

"No," she agreed, "but I believe it."

"Do that for the both of us, then." He said with a grumble in his chest. Once again, he let her have the girlish fantasy of everything turned out all right, while all the events in his life led him to believe it couldn't.

They had decided to walk the horses behind them—it seemed less threatening—through the camp looking for the nearest commander. Somehow, they would find someone to lead them to Robb, or that recognized Sansa. His main goal was simply get Sansa to her brother as safely as possible.

He had his cloak pulled over his face as they entered. It was starting to snow, so this didn't draw too much attention. Hugely pregnant Sansa, on the other hand, was turning several heads. Most of her face was hidden, but Sandor still wanted to growl at their lingering eyes.

"Oi! Boy!" Sandor called to a child packing a saddle bag nearby. The boy looked terrified at such a huge man addressing him, but came trotting over anyway.

"Where might we find your commander?"

"He's in council with the king right now, ser. His second in command is in that tent there,"" he said pointing at a tent close to the keep.

"Take me there," he said tossing the boy a coin. He gave him a hesitant smile and walked in that direction with Sandor and Sansa following behind. When they reached the area, the boy knocked on the wood holding up the tent and waited. A guard poked his head out, eyed the visitors and rudely asked, "what do you want?"

"The gentleman wanted to talk to the commander."

"And you led him right here? Are you mad boy!" the guard yelled and cuffed him across the head. Sansa had to stop herself from crying out as the boy ran away.

"I mean you no harm," Sandor said evenly. Sansa was surprised at his even temper. His hand was incredibly close to his sword though, she noticed.

"Then what are you doing here? I don't recognize you…" the guard said warily as another man joined him from the tent, his hand already on the pommel of his sword. Sansa wondered at his plan, but hoped he could remain calm.

"I've come to deliver something of value to the king." The guards laughed at that.

"What could a sellsword and a pregnant wench possibly have that the _king _would value?" they said still laughing.

Through gritted teeth Sandor replied, "that _pregnant wench _is the king's sister, so I'd watch your mouth."

One of the guards stopped laughing immediately, the other clearly didn't believe him, as he continued to laugh.

"I'd like to see you prove that one. Can't even see her face."

Sansa removed her hood and let her hair fall down her back. "As if you would recognize it if you could see it, "she replied haughtily. "Bring me one who knows my face and you'll find out soon enough."

Her strong words shut the guard's mouth, and he ducked his head back into the tent, saying softly "my Lord?"

A son of Lord Hornwood came out, the eldest, whose name escaped her at the moment. She had only met him a few times, but the way his eyes widened she knew he recognized her. His eyes got even bigger when he took in her figure, but he had the good sense not to say anything. Perhaps they could pull this off.

"My lady…" he said in a far-off voice, "we took you for dead in King's Landing."

"I am delivered," she replied with a kind smile.

"And to whom are we indebted?" He asked turning to Sandor.

"No one," he replied looking down at the ground. What was he doing? Did he mean to leave her there with her brother? She knew he had misgivings, but she didn't think he was capable.

"Ser, I must know your name so I may tell the king."

"She can tell him herself when we see him." Ah, he meant to see Robb with her. She let out a sigh of relief, but noticed Hornwood's son position himself between them.

"I cannot allow a stranger before the king, especially one that may have come from King's Landing," he said drawing his sword. The guards flanking him did the same.

"Wait, what are you doing? This man is…"

"My lady, please, you are safe at home now. This man could be dangerous."

"Are you mad? He's not even drawing his sword!"

"And will not give me his name! Or even take off that damn hood."

"For God's sake…" she muttered wondering how to soothe tensions that had already climbed. But then they quickly spinned out of her control.

A guard stepped forward and pulled Sandor's hood off, revealing his scars. Smallfolk on the road might not have recognized him, but every soldier in Robb's army had heard stories of the Hound and his brother. The men that had gathered to see the commotion suddenly drew their swords as well and advanced on him. Lord Hornwood's son had to yell over the noise the men made.

"Guards, seize this Lannister dog!"

"No!" Sansa cried out, struggling against the man's arm that now had to hold her back. "He's no threat to you, he's…" but they couldn't even hear her. Surprisingly, Sandor didn't even struggle as 4 men forced his arms behind his back and led him away. He held her gaze as she struggled for as long as he could, before being led away. Sansa continued to protest.

"Let him go! You have no right to seize him!"

"My lady, that man is an enemy of your brother, sworn shield of the Lannisters. No doubt he meant to ransom you back to us for a hefty sum. You're safe from him now," he said with a quick glance down to her stomach. No doubt he too thought that Sandor had put that child in her against her will.

She stopped struggling and stood there, letting her anger wash over her. Through gritted teeth, she growled at the man

"Take me to my brother."

"My lady, he is at council…."

"_Now._"

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**I just love strong Sansa :)**


	29. Chapter 29

**I'm so glad you haven't all abandoned me and are still loving the story. If you're not…I choose not to focus on you. I'm incredibly grateful my faithful readers have stuck by me through the pitfalls life has thrown over the past couple of months. At the risk of jinxing myself, its _gotta _be done now *knock on wood everyone!**

**We are in fact getting close to the end! Not this chapter but in a few, then it will be on to a new story! This one goes out to Christina! Who loves the story enough to kick my butt into updating : )**

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The Hound in Sandor wanted to rip the man's head off as he ordered him seized, even more so for daring to lay a hand on his wife, even if it was to hold her back. It brought a little warmth to his chest that his little wolf fought so hard to get to him. At the very least, he had gotten her back to her family. As long as she was safe, he awaited whatever fate had in store for him. This thought filled his head as he was led away…

* * *

Sansa's fury made her shake as she was led into the keep of Riverrun towards her brother. She hadn't known what to expect upon their arrival, but she hardly felt complete without Sandor at her side. Indeed, she hadn't been alone with so many people in a long time. She summoned her courage (and ignored that _fucking _sharp pain in her back) as he knocked on the door of the hall.

Unexpectedly, her breath caught in her chest. She had given up hope of ever seeing her family again after her father died. And now her brother was right on the other side of this door; now she needed that courage to control her breathing.

As she entered, no one spoke. No one moved. Everyone just stared at her. She looked towards the front of the table as Robb slowly rose, covered in great furs and a crown that seemed too large for him, Sansa thought. He also had grown facial hair since she'd left. But he seemed comfortable in the seat of the King—much had changed since her departure.

The open gaping at her figure confirmed just how true that was. Instead of covering herself as she would have once, Sansa stood as straight as her back would allow, facing the King of the North.

"…Sansa?" she smiled at the familiar tone she remembered. Perhaps her brother wasn't so very changed after all.

"Robb," she replied rushing to him and embracing him as best she could. It took him a few moments to hug her back, as his apparent shock prevented it. But eventually he bent down to bury his face in her hair and brought his strong arms around her, stronger than she remembered. When he pulled back, he had a look of bewilderment on his face.

"How…how is this possible? We thought you and Arya dead in King's Landing."

"I am delivered," she replied simply, "by the man you have just imprisoned."

Robb looked confused before Hornwood piped up.

"Sandor Clegane, your grace. He brought her before us and demanded to see your grace."

"He did nothing of the sort!" Sansa shouted at him, as everyone turned at her outburst. Clearly, she was not the Sansa they remembered either. "_You _demanded things that were not your right to know and then had him seized!"

"That's really not the point Sansa." Robb said in a stern tone. "How did you come to be in Clegane's keeping at all? He is sworn to the Lannisters"

"But he isn't Robb, he's sworn to me." The men at the table looked at her in shock and disbelief, muttering to each other under their breaths. That statement could mean any number of things, and it became clear she would need to speak to Robb alone if she hoped to persuade him. Thankfully, he seemed to be thinking along the same line.

"Clear the hall."

"My lord, what…"

"I said clear the hall!" he boomed at them. Each man bowed a little awkwardly and left. "Hornwood!" Robb called at their retreating backs. "Fetch my mother."

Tears filled Sansa's eyes then, "mother is here too?"

"Yes," Robb replied running a tired hand over the back of his neck. "But I would explain before she gets here what you meant by that."

Sansa took a seat. She had never been a great liar when she was a girl, she could only hope that she had learned from Cersei, and that her story had enough truth to carry them through. The trouble was, she had no idea how to begin, so she just blurted out,

"He's my lord husband, Robb."

Robb spat out the wine he'd just taken a sip of and stared at her.

"What did you just say?"

"He's my husband." She said a little bit louder. Robb just gaped at her. _Well this is going well._

"For how long?" Was all he managed to whisper.

She had to scoff a little at that at she gestured to her belly, "about 8 months or so."

"Did…did he force you, Sansa?"

"No!" she exclaimed, "he…he saved me." Robb didn't say anything, just let her continue.

"Its too much to explain before Mother gets here, but he protected me from Joffrey and got me away from the Battle of Blackwater Bay. He brought me back, Robb. I…I love him. And if you ever had any love for me…I need you on my side."

Sansa didn't get an answer before the door burst open and her mother came running in. She pleaded with her eyes for Robb to support her, but she couldn't read his face. She knew if she had any hope of her mother accepting this, she needed to present a united front with her brother.

"Sansa! I couldn't believe it until I saw you," she cried embracing her in a tight hug. "Is it true?" she asked when she pulled away and looked at Sansa's stomach. "That animal is under guard for doing this to you?"

"Mother, no! Sandor has done nothing against my will."

"Sandor, is it?" she replied incredulously. "Sansa, you can't honestly expect me to believe you let that monster put a bastard in your belly." Sansa wrenched away from her mother's hold and glared at her.

"You will not refer to either of them as such, mother," she said putting a protective hand over her belly. "Sandor is no monster, and my child is _not _a bastard."

Her mother looked as though she'd been slapped by Sansa's cold tone. Both women looked over to Robb, who was warily eying the two of them. Sansa still didn't know what Robb would do, and she worried for Sandor's safety among her brother's men.

"Sansa and Lord Clegane have wed, mother."

Catelyn looked even more shocked, and when she spoke it was barely over a whisper.

"You cannot possibly allow this…"

"Look at her mother! I can hardly annul the match now. Nor would I if I could," he added with a small smile in Sansa's direction. She felt her shoulders relax, though that constant stab in her back remained, as she smiled warmly back.

"Oh Robb, be reasonable!"

"Mother, Clegane brought her back to us, at great personal risk. He obviously cares a great deal for her, as she does for him."

"This is about that girl," Catelyn said with narrowed eyes.

"I have a new perspective on love, yes." Robb replied, clearly becoming more agitated. "But she is my wife, not _that girl._" Robb was using the same tone their father used when the subject was not open for discussion anymore.

_Wait, wife?_ But Sansa barely had time to think about it as a mind-splitting pain exploded from her core. She couldn't hold back the shout as she doubled over, clutching the table for support.

"Sansa, what's going on? What can we do?" Robb asked in a worried voice. She opened her mouth to answer, but another scream came out instead.

"The child is coming Robb." Her mother interrupted rushing to Sansa's side. "Fetch the maesters and midwives. A surgeon too, to help with this pain."

"Sandor…" Sansa managed to gasp out through the excruciating pain that just wouldn't end. "I need Sandor…" She cried out again as another peak hit her. She rode it out until it subsided, but it didn't abate completely.

"Sansa," her mother placated, "it is hardly proper for him to be in the room."

"Robb!" Sansa screamed as she locked eyes with him, pleading, "please…"

"I'll get him, Sansa, I promise," he said squeezing her hand. He made for the door before he heard his mother's voice again.

"Robb," he turned to look in her concerned eyes. She had turned so Sansa couldn't see her face.

"Hurry," she mouthed to him.

* * *

**Can't decide if I like this chapter or not. Oh well, its over now. On to the next one!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Alright, so here's what happened. I got a pretty nasty review about a week and a half ago. In and of itself, not a big deal. I deleted it because its my story and I don't want to see it, I moved on. Life got in the way, not really feeling coming back to such negativity, and I got lazy. For those that have consistently been supportive, I apologize, I really should have been more on the ball and given you an update. Today I got a couple more very negative reviews, which I was prepared to ignore again. But THEN I got a PM that just pissed me off, so now I'm gonna rant...**

**First of all-the warning about the subject manner is in the first chapter, I added it when someone told me about it, I apologized for not having it, there's no more I can do if people aren't going to read it.**

**Secondly-if you don't like the subject matter and its offensive to you, don't read it. You still feel the need to get mad at me via a review that isn't helpful or constructive at all? Fine, I hope you feel better, although I seriously doubt it. And I am going to finish my story, I suggest once again that you don't read it because its going to upset you, and it was presumptuous of you to suggest that I not finish. **

**Thirdly-if you want to give a detailed list of everything you hate about my story...awesome, whatever. But don't you EVER use the phrase "no rape survivor would ever feel this way." Not only is it impossible for you to know that, and ignorant to lump a whole group of people together into one category, but I happen to know for a fact that you are wrong. I'm not going to go into detail about that, because its none of your damn business. **

**Whew, now I am done, and I can be happy again. For all those people that gave me a positive and/or helpful review. I thank you! I am going to focus on those, because really they were far more numerous. The dedication goes to a reviewer from the last chapter who gave me a lot of helpful feedback, and reminded me of my need to proofread before I post! But I'm glad you like it despite the errors and other things you aren't too fond of :)**

* * *

Sansa thought she'd known pain from her attack-she was wrong. The peaks of pain kept coming on so fast, and Sansa couldn't mistake the worry in her mother's eyes as she laid her in a bed.

"Mother, what's wrong?" Sansa choked out. Catelyn looked up a little startled but quickly recovered her composure.

"Your contractions are just coming a little quickly darling. We have to try and get the baby out soon, is all"

"But it's too early, I'm only 8 months along." Her mother pursed her lip before answering.

"Sometimes that happens Sansa. Don't worry, we're sending for everyone who can help."

As another pain ripped through her Sansa could only think of one person who could help her: _Where is Sandor?_

* * *

Sandor hoped Sansa was faring better than him. He had his arms behind his back around a pole, was sitting in mud, and every 3rd man that came by "accidentally" knocked into him. He was about ready to rip the damn pole out of the ground and find the Little Bird himself.

Oh hells, what if the young wolf didn't support them? He was King, he could annul any match, even one with a child. And Lord knows the Starks didn't think he was good enough. _He _barely thought he was good enough.

_Well, think of someone enough, and they'll appear. _A commotion in front of them caused his guard to leer back at him.

"The King himself is coming for you. I hear that sword o' his is great for beheading." Sandor ignored the inconsequential man and strained against his bonds a little more. A crowd was gathering, though parted for the king as he walked swiftly towards them.

"Cut him free," Robb Stark said in a stern voice.

"Beg your pardon, your grace?"

"Did I stammer," he replied glaring at the guard, "cut him free now."

Sandor stood as his bonds were cut. He eyed the new boy-king before him-a significant improvement over the last one, though freedom from his constraints didn't necessarily mean his life was guaranteed.

"You need to follow me, quickly." Stark said as he rushed away as quickly as he'd come. No one moved to restrain him, just stared with open distain. Well, bugger them. He fell into step behind Robb without trouble, the obedient part of him taking over despite the questions rolling around in his head.

When they reached the door of the keep, Sandor could hear shouting coming from the tower. They had stopped at the door with a small crowd behind them that had followed.

"Follow these stairs up to the second landing, they're in there."

"Who is?"

Robb started, apparently having remembered he'd had yet to tell him something.

"Your baby's coming, Clegane."

He couldn't hear the murmurs that erupted around them, nor any noise from the camp. All he could hear was his heart thudding in his ears. It suddenly struck him how woefully unprepared he was.

"But...its not time."

"Hence my need to fetch a surgeon." _That _word got his attention. He wasn't stupid enough to grab the king, but he got closer to his face than he should have.

"What the fuck is wrong? Why do you need a surgeon?"

"She's a month early, Sandor. And she's in a lot of pain. I figured you could help with that probably more than the surgeon." He clapped the tall man on the shoulder. "Get it together, man. Sansa needs you."

Sandor shook his head free. Sansa needed him-_that_ he was used to. That he could handle. The baby needing him...well fuck, he could deal with that later.

* * *

Catelyn looked up and glared as the door burst open. _That man again. _That horrible man had put her daughter in this condition. Every scream she made Catelyn wanted to drive a sword into his chest. She fought the urge to pull him away as he went to her daughters bedside.

What happened to her little girl? Had this man tricked her? Manipulated her? Even raped her? Catelyn wasn't trusting anything out of her daughter's mouth until she got the whole story. But she bit her lip as Sansa reached for his hand-she needed comfort, no matter how false that comfort may be. These contractions were coming too fast for the baby to be able to take. She was well-practiced in the birthing room, but this had never happened. As soon as her help arrived, they needed to get the baby out. And she could see that fraction of peace Sansa had from this man being in the room. And when another pain hit and she wrenched forward, he put his arms around her and whispered in her ear almost reverently.

"I...I can't Sandor. It hurts too much."

"You're the strongest person I know Sansa. You _can _and you _will._"

Sansa cried out again, but with a steely determined look Catelyn had _never_ seen out of her daughter.

The door opened again, and the birthing team had finally arrived. _Thank the gods. _They immediately went to either side of her daughter, and Catelyn was moved to the side. The look Clegane gave the men let them know he wasn't going anywhere. Catelyn was struck by how similar he looked to Ned in that moment, and her heart gave a lurch as Sansa's body came forward again.

* * *

He had _absolutely_ no idea what to do. Sansa kept shouting out in pain, and everything he wanted to say to ease her pain sounded stupid. All he could do was hold onto her and try to keep her steady. She was squeezing so tight onto his arm he was losing feeling. He was hardly an expert, but it wasn't supposed to hurt this much was it? _For gods sake, help her!_ He wanted to shout at those men tending to her. In _any _other situation their hands all over her would have earned them losing their heads, and he wanted to growl at the man that moved to lift the bedsheets on her lower half. But Sansa moaned and gripped him so hard he couldn't move away from her.

As the maester prodded her, she cried out again.

"Hey! At least try not to make it worse!" He growled at him.

"I'm sorry, we have to examine her."

"Well take it easy then," he said more to himself.

The maester stepped away to another, much younger man in the corner and whispered something into his ear. Sandor knew the look on those men's faces-something wasn't right. He wanted to ask straight out, but doing so would alarm Sansa, but hell that surgeon looked younger than him.

"My dear," the surgeon said stepping forward. "We must get the baby out now there is too much blood, I fear you have torn in your womb and the child is in danger."

"What!?" she screamed out. "Get her out!"

"We have to send for another man, as fast as we can."

"Why the hell can't you do it?" Sandor said narrowing his eyes.

"I didn't know the gravity of the situation, and my master wasn't there when the king called for him. I came in his stead, but I'm not qualified to preform the procedure."

"I'll go..." Catelyn began.

"Sandor..." Sansa interrupted with a cry. He looked down at her with a helpless look on his face. _Give me an occupation or I'll go mad." _

"Get him" she managed to say through her pain.

"You...you want me to leave?"

"I don't trust anyone else, Sandor. We need him, please."

"Where can I find him?" He asked hurriedly.

"Close to the keep, third building away from the South Gate, he should be back by now."

As Sandor moved to leave, Sansa gripped his hand again.

"Hurry, I don't know if I can do this without you."

"I'll be back before you know it."

Sandor leaned in to kiss her swiftly before running as fast as he could out the door.

* * *

With a small amount of difficulty Sandor managed to find the right man, who seemed shocked he wasn't found in the first place for the king's sister. No more than fifteen minutes had passed and they were racing back up the stairs to Sansa's room. Sandor could tell something was off. He didn't hear the shouting he'd heard on his first trip up. He didn't any crying. He couldn't hear...anything.

When they reached the landing he saw Catelyn standing outside the door, her head in her hands. He wanted to bowl over her and go in, but she looked up at that moment and held up a hand to stop him.

"If you're going to try and keep me out of there..."

"Just...wait." Something in her voice stopped him, something that she wasn't telling him. Her fight against him didn't seem to be there, she seemed...beaten. And that women seemed strong enough to withstand anything.

"What the fuck happened!?" He shouted.

But then he heard Sansa's scream from the next room. Not a cry of physical pain, but a cry that gave him an answer to his question.

* * *

**Aaaand I'm going to go hide now. **

**Just so you know, I planned on doing this from the beginning. It was clear to me, even before I started, than a SanSan story could not end completely happily, not if we're staying true to the 'verse. I literally went back and forth between killing Sansa or Sandor and couldn't make up my mind. Then a friend, with a pained look, said "you know you could kill the baby" and I was like, "damnit, I actually can see that"**

**So although it kills me, i have to do this for the story. More hate reviews can start now I suppose. I guess I'm ready for it...**

**If there's anyone still reading after this, there will be one more chapter and an epilogue, just so you know.**


	31. Chapter 31

**I'm baaaaaaack :) Why the hell can't I think of what movie that's from? That's going to drive me nuts. Anyway, I have in fact returned, it was time (if you would like the story, feel free to PM.) I logged into my email about a week ago, and saw the INSANE outpouring of support from people, which just made me so happy. Other authors, you got nothing on my people. **

**Everyone has Moa-in-the-Moon and Midnightdawn to thank for this one. Lovely women whose unwavering support is wonderful to behold.**

* * *

If he hadn't heard Sansa scream, he's have sworn they were lying to him. Indeed, his heart was still having trouble believing it. But her sobs continued, and he knew her anguish could mean only one thing. He yearned to go to her-to ease her suffering. But he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to think, unable to process that his already beloved daughter was gone before she'd ever been. He couldn't find it in him to be strong.

Instead of carrying him forward to Sansa, his legs crumpled beneath him. He slid haphazardly down the wall, and as he brought his hands to his face he found that he was shaking.

He played every image in his mind-every foolish fantasy he'd concocted that was never meant to be his, and now never would. He broke over and over as images of his beautiful dark-haired daughter flashed in his mind.

_You hopeless fool _he thought to himself. _You knew this shouldn't be yours, yet you longed for it anyway. _He should have known better than to hope. Sansa may deserve everything in the world, but he certainly didn't. He was the evil one. The gods were punishing Sansa because of him.

"I did this" he whispered

* * *

When he said that, she couldn't argue. Her beautiful Sansa was crying out in unbelievable pain because of the man before her. Catelyn understood her daughters pain all too well, and she wanted to blame this hateful man for leading Sansa down this road.

"We shouldn't have been riding...I pushed her too hard," he muttered to himself barely above a whisper.

"No, perhaps you shouldn't have been running all over the seven kingdoms with my daughter." Catelyn knew the remark was beneath her, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to hurt this man the way her daughter was hurting. If he heard her comment, he did not acknowledge it beyond a further slump in his shoulders.

"Catelyn..." he murmured.

"You dare address me so informal?" Lady Stark hissed. He shook his head slowly and looked up at her.

"That was to be her name...Catelyn."

* * *

He could see her angry face visibly face when he said that. He normally had no time for anyone's pity-he'd received enough, but again he simply did not care. He could only wallow in this ever-growing hole. He didn't know how long he sat there, but everyone surrounding him left. Robb managed a pat on his shoulder before leaving, but the other ignored him. He listened, but could hear only deafening silence.

Silence. Sansa was no longer crying.

_Why isn't she crying?_ he said to himself as his head jerked up. _Why is it so damn quiet?_ The horrifying thought that entered his mind got him on his feet. He had to make sure she was alright, he couldn't lose her too.

"Please...please..." he pleaded to no one in particular as he rushed into the room.

Sansa stirred when the door flew open, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She did not wake, and for that he was grateful. The room was now empty. _Maester must have slipped past me _he thought in passing. He took a moment to examine her from afar.

Even in sleep, her face was twisted in agony. It clearly wasn't a easy sleep, and her body twisted and contorted again the blankets that covered her. She even continued to cry, although silently now. In fact, there wasn't a sound in the room. She bore her pain in silence now, clearly to tired to even stay conscious.

He couldn't stop himself from going towards her, his guilt growing with every step. If he didn't deserve to be near her before, he didn't now. How much would she hate him when she woke? As much as she hated Gregor? Would she send him away immediately? Hit him? Order her brother to bring her his head? He deserved it, of that he was certain. But he couldn't stop himself from getting closer to her. His own pain seemed to get better as he neared her. No, not lessen, but alleviate as his need to comfort and protect her became stronger.

_What sort of protector are you? _Ah, that horrible, self-doubting voice had returned. He'd almost missed it. _Protecting her was the only thing you were good for, and look how badly you've done with that. _He couldn't argue. A man's only job was to protect his family, and he made his wife ride in the _last fucking month_ of her pregnancy. He couldn't even keep his vile hands off her. What kind of man was he?

_Not really your family, though, was it? Not your wife, not your daughter, not your_ _life. _

Usually he could make the voice shut up, but now it just kept getting louder. He wanted to cover his ears, but he learned long ago that wouldn't help. What he really wanted was Sansa to wake, and deliver the punishment he so justly deserved for hurting her. For destroying her.

When she moaned and stretched again in her sleep, his hand reached for hers on its own. He tried to pull away, undeserving of her touched, but she tightened her grip before he could. He hadn't cried in years, not since Gregor shoved his face in the flames. It did nothing really, it was a pointless gesture that solved nothing. But when Sansa gripped his hand, his vision blurred as tears filled his eyes once more. He closed them to try and blot them out. He didn't even deserve to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Sansa"

She suddenly reached her other hand over and grasped his. When he opened his eyes they met hers, and he felt a tear escape his eye. She didn't say anything, just began to cry more.

_You should leave, you're only making it worse. _

"I should go" he managed to choke out. But she didn't let go of his hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong as he tried to pull his away, so he stayed and looked at her. She started to cry harder, and the gaping hole in his chest widened.

"I'm so sorry" he repeated as she curled into him, soaking his clothes with her tears.


	32. Epilogue

**ok so not really an epilogue, just a last chapter. I'm kinda freaking out that this is it! But I already have an idea for another SanSan story, as well as my other GoT story involving Jon Snow, so look forward to those!  
**

**And if you haven't commented before now, here's your last chance! I would really really like to know what you thought of my first try at fanfiction, good or bad. You guys have been continuously amazing, and I definitely count you all among my Christmas gifts this year.  
**

* * *

He had absolutely no right to be here, in the Godswood, at his daughters grave. Damnit, a year later and he still couldn't shake that. _She's not your daughter._ Eventually he just stopped fighting it. What did it matter, anyway?

He was really despicable. He remembered how he held her, stroked her hair, and told her everything would be alright. He knew she would be alright, because he wouldn't be there. He was a coward for comforting her and lulling her to sleep, then stealing away was like a thief in the night. And he was a thief, stealing a life that should never have belonged to him.

As he traveling away, he imagined her tears, her screams, her cursing his name. But he could take that, it was better than the alternative of being trapped with the man who murdered your baby. He should not be here. Not because he left-that was the single most decent thing he'd done since he met her. He had no right to be here because it was his fault Catelyn was buried beneath this heart tree.

He honestly had no idea why he was here. A month ago he simply had an urge to leave the little village he was holed up in. He mounted Stranger, who led them in a direction he didn't guide him. At first he was angry at the damn horse. But after a week, once he realized the direction they were heading, he gave the beast free reign. _Maybe he's hoping for another glimpse of her too. _

That's how he came to be standing here, at his daughters grave, exactly a year since his foolish dreams had been crushed, unable to move his feet away.

He instinctually drew his sword, ready to attack as he heard a twig snap behind him. He knew Stranger was on alert to, ready to help him at a moments notice. His heart froze in his chest as he saw who was behind him. _I knew I should have hidden myself better._ He was looking straight into the blue eyes that had haunted him the past year. He couldn't seem to look away. Her gaze drifted from surprise, to grief, to outright anger. He cleared his throat, but still was unable to look away. On some level, he knew he deserved her ire, but perhaps this wasn't the day for it. _Anniversary of her daughter's death? What were you thinking? _He finally found words within him.

"I'm sorry, I'll...I'll just go"

"An act you've perfected I see," she said in a tone full of venom. _Well, at least she hasn't lost her fire._ Her words grounded him again, as if he could have moved in the first place. He braced himself for her banishment, for he knew that, as always, he wouldn't be able to deny her anything.

Instead she simply pushed past him, and placed the single winter rose she held beneath the tree. She knelt in the snow and sat still gazing downward. He was surprised he didn't see the usual shake in her shoulders to signal she was crying.

"I've cried enough" she whispered to herself. _Had he spoken out loud?_ "No," she replied to his unasked question, "I just know you wanted to ask." He wanted to laugh at how well she still knew him. _She always could read you like a book. _He was unsurprised by how much he still wanted her, wanted to deserve to be here.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked in a pathetic voice. He sounded weak even to himself.

"You were gone," she replied, not bothering to answer his question.

Her words hit him in the gut. She'd said that to him once before, when he'd left before Blackwater and Gregor had gotten to her. When he failed to protect her. For the first time, he felt guilt for leaving. He'd felt _badly_ plenty of times, but he'd always thought it was the right thing to do, for Sansa. He couldn't find any words to respond to her, so he stayed there-stupid, huge, and quiet.

"When I went to sleep that night, I believed you," she said not looking at him, "I actually thought it might be alright. But you lied."

"I didn't..." he started.

"I _mourned _you," she yelled, standing up and turning towards him, "you were my _husband_, and you left!" He didn't miss the use of the past tense.

"I'm the reason she's dead, Sansa" he yelled back, unable to believe she didn't understand. How could she not be yelling at him for that? She should be glad he was gone. "I made you ride in your 8th month of pregnancy! She's dead because of me!" He was almost angry now, shouting the words back at her. Hell, his anger had gotten through to her before.

"I'm not the only Northern woman to ride late in her pregnancy. And you were hardly the only person to traumatize my body." She responded with just as much anger. Her tone had dropped though, and she was whispering with just as much emotion as he'd shown. He refused to believe her though, he'd put too much strain on her body since he'd taken her from King's Landing.

"Apparently I was doomed from the start," she laughed bitterly. "His conception was so...violent the surgeon was surprised I carried him that long."

"Him?"

"We were wrong, it was a boy." She replied, "not that it matters." She pursed her lips, "he's dead anyway."

Another bitter laugh escaped her lips as she turned back to the tree. "For so long I wished I'd just listened to you, and taken the moon tea. I wouldn't feel like this, it would have been over." She slid down to the ground again, he wanted to yank her out of the cold snow, but again he couldn't move.

"Where the hell did you find a rose in the middle of winter?" He said coming up behind her.

"Growing near the stables. First one I'd seen in months...he deserves it" she said, the first sign of crying heard in her voice.

"Did you give him a name?" He asked gruffly.

"Brandon" she said quietly.

"After your brother..." she just nodded.

"I pictured him loving to climb. Being strong, like you. And gentle, like my father..." she trailed off. The anger was gone, she was just sad, now.

"I'm sorry, Sansa."

She scoffed. "If you're going to be sorry for anything, be sorry you left when I needed you most."

"I am," he whispered back. And he really was. It was strange, learning he'd been punishing himself for a year by staying away from her, and he hadn't even committed the crime. He couldn't bring himself to hold her, like he wanted. She must hate him far too much for that.

"They thought you hurt me," she continued, again the malice gone. "When the surgeon examined me, and saw what...what he did. They thought it was you. That I was delusionally attached to my rapist." _Of course they would think that._

"I let them, for awhile. I hated you so much." _You deserve that_. But he couldn't help but be hurt; he would never raise a hand against her. He was incapable.

"Robb knew, though. He saw how you were with me. He knew you couldn't hurt me. I told him the truth...eventually." When she looked up at him, he finally dared to reach out a hand to help her up. To his surprise, she took it. He found it difficult to let go, but managed.

"The young wolf married you off yet?" He asked gruffly, looking at the ground. He didn't know why he asked that question, it was hardly his business any more. His heart stupidly fluttered when she shook her head.

"No, no one will ever give me away again." she said with utter conviction. She looked him dead in the eye at her next question,

"Did you ever love me?" The words came so easily, he was a little surprised.

"More than anything." Her eyes filled with tears now, and she surprised them both by reaching for his hand again. She didn't let go this time.

"Well, you better listen this time," she quirked an eyebrow, "and not leave me."

He smiled for the first time in a year. "Never."

He didn't know how long they stood there, hand in hand, staring into each others eyes. He didn't care. He finally knew where Stranger had been carrying him. That lumbering beast had brought him home.

"Your mother is not going to be pleased," he said with a grin.

* * *

**I couldn't resist the last line :) Talk to you all soon**


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